


Hired!

by owlaholic68



Category: Original Work, Urban Shadows, Urban Shadows (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: (not Borgino), Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Canon Trans Character, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meet the Family, New York City, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Relationship Discussions, Slow Burn, Swearing, Trans Male Character, Vampire Bites, canon because I'm the DM and I say so, nsfw in separate chapters, retrofuturism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Robert really needs this job. Even if it means working for the most notoriously dangerous and difficult vampire in New York.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my players: oh yea, they're totally banging, in case there was literally any doubt on that.

Robert dressed in his best suit but he still feels severely underdressed. He fidgets in the lobby while he waits for his interview.

To be fair, his best suit is at least five years old, too big in the shoulders, and too short in the legs. It also was distressingly wrinkled and covered with clumps of cat hair when he had pulled it out of storage last night.

The harried receptionist comes to fetch him for the interview.

“My name is Sharon,” she says while briskly conducting him through several corridors. She raises an eyebrow at his appearance but tactfully says nothing.

“Good morning, Sharon. How has your day been?”

“You know what? Nobody ever asks me that. Fucking terrible,” she mutters. Rubs her forehead with rough chapped hands. Short fingernails, one of them broken. Chipped nail polish. Obviously from a lower-class background like him; Robert relaxes a bit. “Mister Borgino’s been in a shit mood today. Keeps yelling at people who have the gall to try to con him by pretending to be looking for jobs. I had to call security to escort out the last interviewee.”

“Ouch.”

“Plus I have to act as his personal assistant until he gets a new one.”

“Double ouch. I bet you’d like to just get back to scheduling appointments, wouldn’t you?”

She relaxes her shoulders and offers a smile. “You bet, kid. Good luck. If it makes it any better, I’m rooting for you.”

She lets him into a darkened board room. “Sir, I have Robert here for an interview.”

In the dim light, Robert can see a pale figure who he assumes is Mister Borgino slumped in a chair on the far end of the room, his hands messing with his long curly whiteish-grey hair. Instead of a verbal response, Mr. Borgino only groans.

“Good morning, Sir.” Robert enters and gives Sharon a grateful smile when she closes the door. He straightens his back. His father always told him to appear confident at interviews.

Another exhausted groan answers.

Robert hesitantly approaches. “Frankly, you look unwell. Could you use a drink, sir?”

Mr. Borgino raises his head with a dark glare that softens ever so slightly at the question. He shrugs.

For some people, a shrug is a no. But Robert’s innate sense of how people work tells him that this shrug is just a particularly apathetic yes. He goes to a sleek drink cart in the corner, closes his eyes, and reaches out his hands.

His hands, almost without his conscious doing, take a bottle of what smells like whisky and pours two fingers into a glass.

Two fingers of straight _whisky_ at nine in the morning? Robert shrugs to himself and gently places the glass in front of Borgino.

“Right. How the _fuck_ did you know what I like? That’s not public knowledge.” Borgino takes the glass and downs it. He shakes his head, mood visibly improved.

“My great-great-grandmother was an Oracle, sir. A touch of her powers was passed down through generations. Unfortunately, it only allows me to predict what someone’s favorite drink is.” Robert smiles. “Doesn’t often come in handy, I’m afraid.”

“Hm. Sit. What did you say your name was?”

“Robert.” He sits a few chairs away at a respectful distance. “Robert Bakowski. At your service if you’ll have me, sir.”

“Robert, Robert.” Borgino clinks his fingernails on his empty glass. “What did you do before this?”

He winces. “Retail. A shoe store on the South side. C-1 classification.”

This brings an absent smile to Borgino’s face. “What’s worse, retail or vampires?” Almost to himself.

“Retail.”

Mr. Borgino is a very calm individual – almost muted in his demeanor. Robert was expecting his laugh to be a gentle chuckle, maybe even barely audible. Instead, he jumps when Borgino throws his head back and barks a laugh. “Robert, what is your desired salary?”

“Um, I – I would really appreciate a C-2 level?”

Another loud laugh, this time making Borgino slam a hand on the table from mirth. Robert blushes hotly. Was that asking too much? He wasn’t sure how much butlers usually made. He did know that Borgino himself was C-9, so perhaps C-2 wasn’t too much to ask?

His amusement eventually dies down. Borgino reaches behind himself and plucks a letterman-style jacket from the back of his chair. He stands and tosses it into Robert’s lap, then strides over to the door, opens it, and silently leaves.

The jacket is too large for Robert. Black in color with red trim and a large ash-white embroidered serpent on the back – a viper, perhaps, with cartoonish blood dripping from its fangs.

Robert waits for a minute before he realizes that Borgino isn’t returning. Confused, he gets up and takes the jacket with him back to Sharon at the reception.

“Um, I’m not sure what happened. He left and gave me his jacket.”

She puts a hand over her mouth. Her tired eyes crinkle with a smile. “Oh kid, you’re hired!”

* * *

The next few days are a whirlwind of appointments and activities.

Robert visits a tailor and a hair stylist in quick succession. The hairstylist tuts over his shaggy bedhead, quickly redoing his amateur blue dye job and trimming the worst of his split ends.

Professional movers come and efficiently pack up his meager belongings. An animal moving expert even arrives to handle his temperamental cat with ease.

His new apartment is a few blocks away from his new office and generously spacious. It has large windows in the bedroom and a balcony that connects to the living room. There is no official kitchen as he wouldn’t get one unless he was at least C-4, but there was a microwave, a small refrigerator, and a hot plate. It also includes a tiny washroom, barely larger than a linen closet, that includes a sink and a mirror.

“Are you sure this is right?” Robert keeps asking the movers. “The washroom is mine, too?”

One of the movers rolls their eyes with an amused smile. “Yes, we’re quite sure. Your employer insisted upon it. It would be unfitting for C-3 if it did not include one.”

C-3. Robert hadn’t asked for C-fucking- _three._ He opens his mouth a few times without saying anything, then finally closes it. He’s not going to complain about the surprise promotion. His C-1 studio apartment really sucked and honestly, C-2 wouldn’t have been much better.

He keeps receiving packages in the mail. Two pairs of new shoes, two suits in contrasting colors with accompanying extra shirts and accessories, and a shiny new pair of glasses.

The night before his first day, he tosses and turns. Keeps getting up to open his closet to look at his new wardrobe. Too fancy for him. Too good for a scruffy kid from the slums, for the son of a maid and a truck driver.

* * *

Robert shows up to his first day of work feeling like he somehow tricked his way here.

The first hour is a hasty orientation where Sharon essentially shoves some new ID cards and pass-cards into his hands and gives him a brief rundown of Mr. Borgino’s pet peeves. She leads him to Borgino’s office and advises him to start memorizing the layout of the building.

Mr. Borgino looks just barely less frustrated than the last time Robert saw him.

“Good morning, sir!” Robert chirps. He fetches Borgino’s morning whisky while his new employer watches him with a dark hunger in his eyes. Borgino licks his lips.

Robert swallows hard at the look. He’d read the job posting, of course, as well as the contract that had been mailed to him shortly after getting the position. One of the job duties was to also attend to his employer’s… _physical_ requirements.

“I should have asked if you were squeamish,” Borgino mutters.

“N-No, sir, I – I’m not.” Robert’s pulse is pounding in his ears. He’s never been fed upon, though he’d considered it a few years ago as a way to pay the bills. He shakily rolls up his sleeve and holds out his wrist.

High-ranking vampires like Borgino were nicknamed “Sharks”. If ever faced with the choice of facing down a real-life shark or a wealthy Shark, Robert would choose the former option. At least animal sharks weren’t actually that dangerous if not provoked – most species of sharks don’t actually attack humans!

Borgino takes his wrist with a cold hand, fingers rubbing over his pulse point. His empty dark eyes never leave Robert’s gaze as he lowers his head and opens his mouth, sharp fangs resting gently on his skin.

He pauses. Smiles the grin of a predator. Raises his head again without biting.

“What-” Robert yelps.

Borgino abruptly yanks him down by the arm. Robert ungracefully falls into his new employer’s lap with a squeak that turns into a gasp when Borgino buries his head in Robert’s neck and bites down savagely hard just under his ear.

For long moments, Robert can only stare over Borgino’s shoulder in shock. The pain of the bite quickly fades into numbness. Borgino’s fingers still tight around his wrist, his other hand gently tucking a chunk of hair behind Robert’s ear.

The feeding feels like it takes hours. But it’s only about ten seconds later when Borgino pulls back and laps at the wound with his tongue before finally releasing Robert.

He feels a bit too shaky to stand, so he finds himself still sitting in Borgino’s lap, blinking and not sure how to react.

“Oh my silly Robert, a bite on the arm is like a nasty papercut – it will sting and bleed for hours,” Borgino mutters. Voice husky and dark in a way that makes Robert shiver and blush. “The neck is much less painful and will not bleed. The _last_ thing you want to do is walk around here with an open wound.” He smiles that dangerous smile again. “Not that anyone would _dare_ bother you.”

“O-Of course, s-sir.” Robert manages to get up just as there is a knock on the office door. He quickly rolls his sleeve back down and composes himself in time to give a sunny smile when Sharon lets in their first appointment of the morning.

He keeps on absently touching the spot of the bite all day, though. Borgino was right – it’s healing quickly and doesn’t hurt at all.

The rest of the job is fairly easy: do whatever Borgino asks of him. Greet guests and important business officials. Offer them drinks and escort them out. He also has to smooth over a few rough interactions where Borgino’s sharp tongue failed to please.

Honestly, it really is better than retail.

* * *

The most fun aspect of his job is running errands for Mr. Borgino.

His signal to go out is the jacket. Mr. Borgino’s slightly-too-large jacket with his symbol loudly emblazoned on the back. Borgino will toss it to him and that’s his cue to leave. He’d been confused at first at what he was supposed to do since he received no other instructions, but he quickly learned to dig inside the jacket pockets.

Usually there was a piece of candy or two, which Sharon informed him he _was_ allowed to eat. Along with the treat was at least one paper note detailing his errand.

Robert also swiftly learns that the jacket he wears has a lot of benefits. People will give him a wide berth. Businessmen rush to offer him their seats on the Express, guards and receptionists will hastily wave him through any checkpoint or door without question.

For once in his life, he feels properly confident. He holds his head high and walks like he has important business to attend to.

* * *

Robert heads off on an errand to deliver a package to a business associate. Borgino did not trust the mail service, citing several incidents of corruption and mail tampering. For reasons of security, he had his own personal mail service for less important mailings, and he had Robert for the most serious things.

He’d been working for Borgino for about five months now, well used to the routine and quirks of his employer.

“Thank you for the package,” his recipient politely says. The store owner bites her lip. “What did you say your name was again, sir?”

“My name is Robert.” The only thing he’s not used to is being called “sir” himself by Borgino’s lower-ranked associates.

“Oh. Here, Mr. Borgino passed along this note to give to you.” She holds out a folded note with his name on the outside.

Curious, he opens the note when he’s riding back to the office on the crowded Express. It’s written in Borgino’s scrawl.

 _Robert,_ it reads.

_Please know that you have every right to refuse my offer and it will have no bearing on your professional relationship with me, nor will it affect your upcoming scheduled six-month promotion to C-4. This was not in your original contract._

_I have been unbearably enamored with you for months now. However, considering my position, it would be unspeakably fucking rude and abusive to act upon my feelings. I was intent upon never revealing my feelings until I read my horoscope this morning, which told me to take chances and act upon my feelings before it’s too late._

_May I have the honor of dining with you? There is a back-alley Italian diner down the block that Sharon assures me is sublime._

_If you accept, leave this note in the pocket of my jacket. If I have overstepped and you do not wish to accept, then dispose of this note immediately and the subject will never arise again._

_Dearly,_

_Bryant._

Robert stares at the note with a hot blush on his cheeks and ears. Mr. Borgino’s first name is fucking _Bryant?_ He makes important decisions based on his _horoscope?_ And he’s apparently _in love_ with him?

He – he doesn’t know how to feel about this. Hopeful? Confused? A little silly considering that he’s secretly also had a crush on his employer too? Worried about what this could mean for him?

He could refuse. He could tear up the note and throw it off the Express platform and it would be lost forever.

Instead, he bites his lip, pushes up his glasses, and tucks the note into the pocket of the jacket. He feels hot and a bit dizzy, but his stop is coming up.

He stands and goes to the edge of the car. The way the Express works, the car doesn’t actually stop, but rather passengers are expected to hop to and from the car to the series of strips that make up the core of the Express system. The strips accelerate or decelerate you enough for you to safely navigate. They are ridiculously easy to use and everyone learns to use them since they can walk. There are even accessibility strips for those who had disabilities.

The other passengers on the car let him pass to get off. A few local Hound Dogs chat and smoke near the door, but they also move to give him room, eyeing him warily.

Distracted as he is, Robert doesn’t notice one businessman who he’d later learn has been angrily glaring at him the entire ride. That man comes up behind him and Robert assumes he is also getting off at this stop.

He balances himself to hop off the car, still thinking over the unexpected note he’d received.

A hand hits his back and roughly pushes him forward.

Robert yells and hits the strips face-first. He tries to correct himself but his foot gets twisted in the wrong strip and sends him sprawling. Throwing out his arm to try to catch himself was apparently also a bad idea, because he hears a sharp crack in his wrist and his arm gives out, slamming him into the rough surface.

He rolls and opens his eyes to get his bearings and get himself back up off the most dangerous part of the Express, but his sight is a blurry mess of flashing lights and colors. He’s even more dizzy now. Another flash of pain shoots up his arm.

Someone grabs him and hauls him to safety.

“Holy fuck!” A sharp female voice yells. “Hannah, go get some ice packs or something from the Den! Taylor, Roxy, grab that fucker that pushed him and don’t let him leave!”

“P-Pushed?” Robert stammers. He looks up to see a blurry mass of red – red hair and the faint odor of wet dog. One of the Hound Dogs – local werewolf gangs.

Something wet is running down his face. Robert smells blood. He puts his uninjured hand to his face and realizes his glasses are gone and blood is running down his forehead, tears down his cheeks. His ankle and wrist throb.

“Do you have someone you could call?” The woman demands, dragging Robert over to a bench.

“Y-Yeah,” Robert rummages in his pocket for his thankfully unbroken phone. His fingers brush the note. He rubs the edge of the thick paper once for comfort.

Borgino picks up after a few rings. “What?” He coldly demands. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“S-Sir, I – I need someone to pick me up,” Robert catches his breath to not sound so pathetic. People fall all the time on the Express.

There is a long pause. “And you can’t take the Express why, now?”

“I – I tripped. I’m a little hurt.”

The Hound Dog at his side rips the phone from his hands. “Tripped? _Fucking tripped,_ kid? Listen, whoever the fuck you are, this kiddo was pushed by a slimy piece of shit. He’s fucked up and probably should go to the hospital.” She pauses. “Yes, we have the fucker who pushed him. My pups are beating the shit out of him, but we’ll save some for you. Yes, I’ll stay with the kid until you get here. We’re at the East exit of Queensboro Plaza.”

She hands the phone back to Robert. “Your dude is coming to get you.”

“Wh-what?” Robert sniffles. “Sir, you – you don’t have to, I could probably call a cab-”

“Shut up,” Borgino snaps. “Stay put.” He raises his voice. “Sharon, cancel all my appointments today! Yes, I mean _all_ of them, I don’t give a fuck who’s scheduled!” He lowers his voice again. “Robert, I’m fucking serious. I’m on my way and I’ll be there soon. You'd _better_ be there or else.”

There is no arguing when he uses that tone of voice. “O-Okay, sir.” Robert hangs up.

The Hound Dog introduces herself as Carmen. She hangs out with Robert, pressing some ice packs and towels to his wounds. They try to report the incident to the police but are brushed off.

“He just tripped,” an officer scoffs. “Happens all the time.” He quickly backs off and makes a hasty escape when Carmen growls at him.

Robert can’t see anything but he can hear Borgino approach. Mostly, he can hear the abrupt terrified silence that accompanies the other passengers as they quickly get out of his way. At his side, Carmen whistles, apparently not previously understanding who Robert worked for.

“I – I’m sorry, sir-”

“Shut up, you did nothing to apologize for.” Borgino kneels in front of him, likely dirtying his pristine suit on the grimy Express tiles. He cradles Robert’s face in his hands and wipes away residual tears. “Can you walk?”

“Yes-”

“No,” Carmen interrupts. “His ankle is fucked up.”

Borgino sighs and brushes his thumb over the dried blood on Robert’s forehead. “Don’t lie to me,” he whispers. “Are you okay?”

His soft tone of voice brings back the memory of his ardent note. Robert’s throat feels tight. He shakes his head no.

“Oh, Robert…” Borgino puts an arm under his knees and another behind his back, easily scooping him up and carrying him against his chest.

That makes the tears return. Something about him saying _Oh Robert_ like that, full of uncharacteristic worry and tenderness. Robert buries his head in his employer’s shoulder and sobs, wrapping his arms around his neck and letting Borgino’s long soft hair tickle his face.

Borgino takes him to a private doctor who tends to his wounds, then to an optometrist who already has a new pair of glasses ready. Borgino then drives him home. They ride in silence until he stops in front of Robert’s apartment building.

“I would not dare expect you to return to work tomorrow,” Borgino stiffly says. Not looking at Robert, instead tightly clutching the steering wheel and staring straight forward. “You may have the day off. I'll manage without you somehow.”

“Thank you, sir.” Robert clears his throat and fiddles with the sleeve of the jacket.

An awkward silence falls.

“B-Bryant?” The name feels extremely personal and intimate.

“Yes, Robert?” Borgino’s voice is flat and emotionless.

“I – I’d love to go to dinner with you. I’m free Friday night.”

Borgino’s hands tighten until his knuckles are white and straining. “Good.” What Robert had mistaken for cold lack of emotion, he now realizes is high-strung longing suppressed to a professionally appropriate level.

“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, sir.” Robert shucks the jacket and opens the car door, but not before slipping the special note into his pants pocket.

“Robert.” Borgino turns. His eyes inky pools of desire. “You may call me by my first name in private.”

“Yes – yes, Bryant.” Robert gives a smile still shaky from his recent traumatic injury. His heart is doing flips. “Thank you.” He leaves and limps up to his apartment. His cat Cecilia meows and hops down from her window perch, slightly annoyed at him being home so early.

Robert makes himself a mug of hot chocolate and dutifully takes his painkillers and anti-inflammation medications. He sits on the couch and turns over the note again and again, savoring the sweet words. He ends up locking it away with his most treasured possessions, taking it out just a few hours later to put it under his pillow while he sleeps.


	2. Chapter 2

Robert almost walks right past Borgino on his way to his date.

He’s so focused on making sure he’s going to the right place that he doesn’t pay any mind to the man on the corner wearing a beanie and a bright turquoise fur coat.

A hand catches his elbow and he nearly screams before he recognizes the person.

“You plan on dining alone?” Borgino says with an amused smile.

“I – I didn’t recognize you, sir!” Robert gives him another look over. His employer’s – no, his date’s – distinctive long curly white hair is stuffed under a plain black beanie. “Sorry, I mean – I mean, Bryant.”

“Good.” Borgino lets go of him and puts an arm around his shoulders. “That’s the plan, at least. I’d rather go incognito for this, and I’m sure you would prefer that as well.”

“Of course.”

The back-alley Italian place is one that must have been around for centuries, gauging by the worn fade of the once-bright tiles and the way the chairs squeak. It must be a secret spot for locals because it’s packed even though the sign for the restaurant is the size of a postcard.

Funnily enough, Borgino seems a bit awkward and unsure how to act. He’s probably used to high-class dinners and fancy solemn parties, not a rowdy diner with kids running around. Robert takes the lead in securing them a table and ordering their drinks while Borgino squints at the menu.

“You’re going to eat?” Robert questions, a bit surprised. Vampires don’t necessarily need to eat human food.

“Robert, let me tell you something very serious and confidential.” Borgino leans forward, elbows on the table and gaze passionately intense. “You must never tell a _single soul_ about this.”

“Yes, B-Bryant?”

“I _crave_ Italian food.”

Robert feels a bit silly. Didn’t Borgino say something _serious?_ “Oh.”

“The craving is like an endlessly burning desire that eats me up from the inside. It is the _only_ food that I desire as much as blood, Robert. I _never_ fucking get to have it because _some_ assholes think that Italian food is crass and beneath them and it _never, ever_ gets served at events. It _infuriates_ me, Robert. I can’t stand it.”

“Well, we – we could get some delivery for lunchtime sometime,” he suggests.

Borgino sits back, seemingly satisfied. “Excellent idea.”

After the oddly intense rant about Italian food, they order and Robert manages to strike up more casual conversation, inquiring about Borgino’s hobbies. He knows barely anything about his employer’s (no, no! His _date._ Borgino is his _date_ tonight) personal life and has never seen him outside of work before.

He already knew that Borgino had a loud laugh, but he’s never heard it so many times in the span of the three hours they dine together. Borgino makes him laugh too, like Robert can’t help but find everything he says funny.

Their dinner ends too soon. They can only keep ordering more and more desserts and drinks until the staff start to roll their eyes knowingly. They end up just outside the restaurant with the smokers, Robert leaning on Borgino’s arm and laughing at some joke he just muttered under his breath.

“Come back to my place,” Robert offers on a whim.

Borgino freezes. The first time he’s ever seen the Shark look like prey instead of predator. “Um, I – I wouldn’t dare intrude-”

“You won’t. Come in and have a drink. Sharon sent me some sake from her vacation to Japan. She said it was a premium smooth sake or something; I haven’t tried it yet, but you would know, wouldn’t you?”

He relents with a smile. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Robert leads him to his apartment – almost ready to be packed for his upcoming promotion and resulting move.

Cecilia the cat yawns and stares suspiciously at Borgino but gives him a sniff and lays back down. Robert often wears Borgino’s symbolic jacket home, so presumably his cat would be familiar with his scent by now.

Borgino stays for another two hours. He starts out sitting stiffly on the couch but ends up slumped against Robert’s shoulder, staring at him with hungry eyes. Not hungry like vampire-hungry, blood-hunger, but a different kind.

His hair is let down out of his hat and flowing down his shoulders, released from its usual messy ponytail. Robert runs his fingers through the ends, smoothing out unruly curls and tangles. It feels oddly intimate. Like jumping into the deep end of a pool instead of just tiptoeing in.

Robert yawns.

“This was an enjoyable evening,” Borgino quietly says. His eyes dart to the clock. “But I fear I’m tiring you out.”

“Nonsense-” he’s cut off by another betraying yawn. “Alright, fine, Bry. I guess I’m kind of worn out.”

“Bry?” His voice is even quieter.

Now it’s Robert’s turn to freeze. “Um-”

“It’s fine.” Borgino lazily smiles. “You – Robert, you do understand that you have no obligation to do this, nor is there any necessity for you to do this again with me, right?”

“What part of me giving you a nickname and inviting you to my place do you _not_ understand?” Robert snaps. He sighs. “Sorry. I’m not being coerced into this or anything and if I felt pressured, I would stop. Our jobs ensure that even if things did go south, we could still maintain a professional relationship. So just stop worrying and second-guessing, okay? I love – I love hanging out with you.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Anyways, I’ll see you out. I _do_ have to get up early tomorrow to take Cecilia in for some shots, so…”

“So I’d better leave you to it.” Borgino smiles and gets up. Robert lets him out and they have another unsure moment on the doorstep before Robert settles for giving Borgino a long hug.

He watches him leave and can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the night. Even smiling the next morning, even when he has to shove his cat into a carrier to take her to the vet.

If he had any doubts as to if he really enjoying hanging out with Borgino, those doubts are erased by the fact that remembering their date could keep a smile on his face even while his cat scratches him to hell and back.

* * *

Their professional relationship only becomes even closer because of the development in their personal rapport.

Robert learns to read the subtle cues in the tilt of Borgino’s head, in the twitch of his fingers against his desk, in the set of his shoulders. Borgino learns when he’s gaining no headway in his dealings and when to let Robert take the lead instead.

They go on a second date to Central Park, then a third to walk around a street festival.

The fourth is fancy and Borgino isn’t going incognito. Robert clutches onto his arm, knowing that he’s shaking like a leaf when the waiter raises his eyebrows at them. Other diners seem to recognize his date, not-so-subtly staring as they take their reserved table.

Borgino leans forward and pats his hand. “Hey, fucking relax. I don’t bite.”

Robert nervously laughs at the joke. “It’s just that I don’t feel like I belong,” he whispers.

“Well, that’s bullshit. You belong because I say you belong and anyone who dares insinuate otherwise will _regret_ it.” Borgino bares his fangs at a couple who is staring too openly. They shrink back and other diners get the hint. “Now relax. I’m serious. I need your mind to be clear so you can tell me if the eggplant parmesan here is better or _worse_ than the one we had on our first date.”

Robert leans forward, confidence slowly coming back. “You think it’s _worse,_ don’t you?”

“That’s for _you_ to tell,” Borgino coyly replies.

This date ends with them on the street waiting for Borgino’s hired car to pick them up.

“I’m _telling_ you, it is highway robbery that they charge _at least_ ten times what that little diner does for a meal that I would rate zero stars if I could!” Robert rants.

Borgino rolls his eyes. “I know. If I could personally fire their chef, I would. Be glad that I had the forethought to order something else as a backup.”

“I am glad.” Robert looks at him and suddenly feels so stupid. _Silly Robert,_ as Borgino would fondly say.

His – his date? His boyfriend? His _Bryant_ is barely taller than him, only an inch at most, but it feels like feet separate them when Robert puts a hand on Borgino’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. Borgino melts into him, wrapping his arms around Robert’s waist and holding him even closer, clutching him so tightly that it knocks the breath out of him, makes him arch his back and sigh into the kiss.

“Oh, Robert…” Borgino pulls back and presses his forehead to Robert’s. “Oh my Robert…”

Robert doesn’t know what to say. He has the absurd urge to thank Borgino. For what, he doesn’t know. He also has the desire to kiss him again.

That one is a good desire. He follows through on that.

The driver that picks them up has to blow on the horn a few times to get their attention. Rolls his eyes at them but wisely says nothing as he drives Robert home.

Borgino greedily sneaks another kiss on his doorstep.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers. “Bright and early, Robert.”

“Of course. Of course, sir,” Robert playfully adds. “I enjoyed this. We should do this again.”

“I’ll invite you over my place next time,” Borgino offers. “You’ll be moving in a week and it’ll be chaotic. We can just hang out. Watch a movie. I’ll order something for dinner.”

Robert smiles. He can never stop smiling around Borgino. “That sounds great. I can check my calendar and get back to you tomorrow. See you then!”

He waves goodbye and blows a kiss.

He has no idea that he is _not_ going to be seeing Borgino tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most anti-climactic kidnapping.

Robert had fallen asleep normally after that date.

He wakes up to a bucket of ice-cold water dumped over his head.

A gasp turns into a sputtering cough. He tries to stand up and – and do something but he can’t move. He can’t move his hands or his legs or his chest, just his head as he tries to look around.

But it’s all a blurry dark mess.

His glasses. He doesn’t have his glasses on and wherever he is, it’s dark and it’s cold and it’s not his bedroom and he’s not alone.

A hand ruffles his hair, makes him flinch. “He’s awake and all yours, ma’am,” a male voice says.

“Good.” An unfamiliar female voice answers. Someone comes to stand in front of the hard chair that Robert is tied down to. “And he didn’t even scream. I know that I would _hate_ to be woken up like this, wouldn’t you?” She sighs and leans down, blocking the light even more. Sharp nails scratch Robert’s cheek and he freezes. “I said, _wouldn’t you?”_

“Y-Yes, ma’am.” Robert’s voice is shaky and hoarse. He can barely raise it above a whisper. “What – what’s going on?”

This woman’s laugh is grating and cruel. “Oh, what’s going on, dear? What’s going on is that your _employer_ has something that I want.” She straightens and starts pacing. Robert keeps his head down and tries to keep breathing. He – God, he wants to cry.

“My name is Elaine,” she says. “Not my real name, I’m not _that_ stupid. If it’s any consolation, kid, I’m not telling you my real name or letting you see my face because I do intend to keep you alive and well.” She pauses. “Of course, that’s only if you cooperate.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll – I’ll try.” His stomach twists painfully. He doesn’t want to cooperate. He doesn’t want to help these people at all, but Borgino always insisted that if ever his enemies went after Robert, he was to do anything to ensure his safety and well-being, even if it meant betraying Borgino himself.

Elaine laughs another mean laugh. “Aw, he’s going to cooperate,” she coos. “What a disappointment, honestly, but what can you do?”

Her tone of voice makes Robert shiver. Tears spring to his eyes. “What – what do you want?”

“What. Do. I. Want.” A chair scoots and she sits down. “I want the code to Borgino’s personal safe. The one that is heavily trapped and sits in his office under his desk.”

Oh. That’s not something that he knows. Robert’s tears stop. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t know that. I haven’t personally seen him open it.”

“But you must have,” she insists. “You attend to him constantly. You’re his closest confidant and literally his only friend. Or well, you know, _more_ than friends from what I’ve heard…”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know,” Robert repeats.

There is a long silence.

“You. Don’t. Know?”

“I don’t. I really don’t, ma’am, I’m sorry. I – I would tell you if I did!”

Another long silence.

“Perhaps he needs some time to remember,” the male voice suggests.

“Good idea. Maybe it’s too hot in here for the poor thing – I know the heat always makes _me_ forgetful.” Elaine snaps her fingers and a blast of freezing cold air comes on from what sounds like an air conditioning vent directly above him.

To make things worse, another bucket of icy water is upended over him.

“I – I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Robert cries through chattering teeth. His vision is starting to go a little grey. Maybe he’s just being overdramatic, but it feels like icicles are forming on his eyelashes. “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

Elaine sighs. “Let’s leave him alone for a while to _really_ think about it.”

“No, no please-” Robert hears a door slam shut. The air conditioning gets even louder and stronger.

He waits for hours.

* * *

Has Borgino noticed that he hasn’t come into work yet? Is it that late? Is he worried or does he just think that Robert has forgotten to set his alarm and slept in?

Robert tries to doze off but he’s shivering too much. The air conditioning keeps getting louder and colder. His skin is starting to go numb and the constant shivers are turning into erratic violent shudders.

The fan above him finally whines and shuts off.

The door opens and Robert hears two people walk in. He stays quiet, catching his breath and gasping in relief at not being freezing cold anymore.

“You seem like a smart boy,” Elaine quietly says. She puts a burning hot hand on Robert’s cheek and he can’t suppress a flinch at the painful contrast. “You don’t _really_ want to be stubborn and stupid, do you?”

He shakes his head.

She waits.

“I don’t know the code. I’m sorry. I’ve never seen him use it.”

Elaine chuckles. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She leans in uncomfortably close. “Tell me, is he really worth it? Is that slimy Shark really worth getting hurt over? Do you think he actually _cares_ about you?” When Robert doesn’t answer, she chuckles. “We saw you and him together. Pathetic, at least in my opinion.”

He keeps his head down. “I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”

“What did he blackmail you with?” She asks.

“Wh-what?”

“You took him back to your place on your very first date. Poor boy, did he threaten to fire you if you wouldn’t let him fuck you? I understand the pressure and I don’t blame you for it. But you don’t have to bend over for him, you know – we could _help_ you. You don’t owe anything to him – what? Why are you laughing?”

Robert’s not sure if he’s laughing because what she said was actually funny, because of the absurd irony, or because he’s gone hysterical. Probably a mixture of all three. He throws his head back and laughs loudly, like Borgino laughs.

Borgino and him just had their _very first kiss –_ they hadn’t slept together!

“Great, now he’s gone crazy,” Elaine mutters.

“Is it the stress?” the man suggests.

“Or maybe he’s brainwashed,” she muses. “Go call our Witch over here to try to hypnotize him. We can’t risk injuring him and drawing blood – that Shark could probably track him with it.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll call right now.” The man leaves.

“Good luck,” Robert wheezes, trying to get himself to stop laughing. “Good fucking luck because guess what, lady? I don’t _know_ the code! I don’t know anything! Hypnotize me all you want!”

She slaps him in the face. “Shut the fuck up!” She leaves the room and slams the door shut behind her.

Robert actually doesn’t feel that scared. She just said they weren’t actually going to hurt him. And honestly, what good _could_ a hypnotist do to get information he didn’t even have?

All they’re doing is wasting time so Borgino has more time to realize he’s missing and to find him. He’s fine with that.


	4. Chapter 4

Being hypnotized is fun because Robert doesn’t remember a single second of it. They must knock him out after it because he doesn’t remember anything until he wakes up later.

He wakes up to someone screaming his name. A high-pitched voice, panicked and alarmed. Oh, it’s Sharon.

“Hi, Sharon,” Robert croaks. He’s still kind of cold but he’s not injured. “Good morning. Good afternoon?” He clears his throat. “Hello. Good day.”

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Sharon kneels down and helps him sit up. He’s sitting on the welcome mat outside of her apartment. “You go missing and show up on my doorstep unconscious and the first thing you say to me is _hello?!?”_

Robert shrugs. “You should probably call Borgino.”

Sharon slaps him in the face. “Oh, you _fucking think so?”_ She angrily pulls her phone from her pocket and dials a number. “Here’s here and he’s fine, sir,” she snaps, then puts the phone back in her pocket. “He’s on his way.”

Her lip wobbles and she drops the anger. Hugs him tightly and buries her face in his shoulder, making noises that sound like crying. Robert hugs her back, patting her and reassuring her that he was here and he was just fine.

Borgino storms in minutes later. Sharon has composed herself, leaving Robert for Borgino to sweep into a hug.

“Oh Robert…” Borgino sounds distraught.

“I’m fine, really,” Robert protests. He _is, really._ “I did miss you, though. It’s good to see you.”

Borgino heavily sighs. He kisses Robert hard then pulls away panting. To be honest, Robert thinks he looks _wrecked._ “I was so worried,” he admits. “I was so fucking _worried_ about you and I’m so fucking _glad_ that you’re okay. To hear that you got kidnapped…”

“They didn’t hurt me, Bry. I’m okay, they just wanted some information that I didn’t have. They tried to hypnotize me and do weird manipulative things to get me to tell but I didn’t know and they didn’t want to risk drawing blood so…” Robert shrugs. “Really. Nothing that a night of good rest and a nice hot cup of coffee won’t fix.”

“What did they want to know?”

Robert shrugs again. “It was-”

Borgino’s phone shrilly rings – an important call, then, to be on the tier where it produces sound instead of vibration. Borgino reluctantly glances at the caller ID before answering. “Hello?”

He frowns. Nods. “I see. Clean up the remains per standard protocol.” He hangs up. “Apparently, someone tried to break into the safe that I keep under my desk. They used the wrong code and the security on it was activated.”

“A man and a woman?” Robert guesses. “Yeah, that’s what they wanted to know. I kept telling them that I didn’t know it but they just wouldn’t believe me!”

Borgino raises an eyebrow. “Hm. Well, you gave them something. According to the logs that Security just sent me, they used code 05-04-68. Does that mean anything?”

Robert starts giggling. “Yeah, that – that’s my mother’s birthday,” he manages between chuckles. “Apparently hypnotized me has a sense of humor and just gave them that to get them to leave me alone!” He falls into another fit of laughter.

“It seemed to do the trick.” Borgino seems less amused. More tired: there are lines and circles around and under his eyes that weren’t there before. He is relieved, though, and keeps gently touching Robert’s arm or shoulder or knee to verify he’s really there.

“Hey,” Robert whispers. He takes Borgino’s hand and holds it. Squeezes it once. “All’s well that ends well, right? I’m here and I’m fine. Now take me home, I’m tired. Come sleep with me.” He blushes. Oops, his brain is a bit scrambled from the whole incident. “I – I mean, you can sit there next to me to make sure I’m still there and alright,” he blurts out too quickly, too awkwardly. “If you want.”

Borgino squeezes his hand back and nods. He helps Robert up and drives him home, helps him into his apartment.

There is another awkward moment when Robert goes to change pajamas: he’s still wearing pajamas but they’re still damp from all the water. Borgino turns away very quickly when Robert takes his shirt off. The vampire’s ears and neck are bright red.

“I – I should leave you to get changed,” Borgino stutters.

Wow, the sight of Robert taking off his shirt could fluster him so much that he started _stuttering?_ Robert smiles to himself. “No, Bry, you can stay. It’s okay, I’ll be only a few seconds.”

“It’s not appropriate.”

“Don’t be such a prude.” Robert quickly changes pants but keeps his fresh pajama shirt off. “Turn around.”

“Are you dressed?”

Robert smiles to himself. “I’m decent.”

Borgino turns around and immediately turns back again. “You’re not w-wearing a shirt, R-Robert! I asked if you were dressed!”

“And I told you that I was decent. Plenty of people walk around without a shirt on in summer, Bryant. You’re allowed to see me shirtless. I’ve put in a lot of fucking work to be able to look good with no shirt on. Now turn around and stop being a fucking wimp about it.”

“I’m not being a – a wimp, it’s just you’re a man who deserves my utmost respect and I would not dare invade your privacy.”

Robert stands and wraps his arms around Borgino from behind. “I want you to look at me. You’re allowed to look at me, you know. I give you permission. You always have permission.”

He gently turns Borgino’s face so he can kiss him. As if he had really waited for permission, Borgino chooses now to wrap Robert in another tight hug, walking them backwards to sit on the bed. Robert sits, Borgino all but collapses, pulling Robert closer and kissing him repeatedly on the cheeks.

“Put my shirt on,” Robert quietly asks between yawns. “I’m chilly.”

“Of course.” Borgino takes the discarded pajama shirt and helps Robert put his arms in the sleeves. His delicate fingers do up the buttons starting from the bottom. He keeps his cold cheek against Robert’s, long curly hair tickling Robert’s nose. “Oh Robert, I couldn’t stand if anything horrible had happened to you,” he whispers. A pained confession wrestled out by the recent circumstances. “I care for you so deeply, Robert, that it – it’s _awful_ to feel like this, it’s agonizing to love someone as much as I-”

He cuts himself off, hand paused on the top button of Robert’s shirt.

“As much as you love me,” Robert completes. He reaches up to Borgino’s cheek, caresses it and finds to his shock that it’s wet. “Oh, Bry…”

Borgino’s voice is equally damp. “I _hate_ that I feel like this, Robert, I hate that I – I love you and I don’t know what to do about it, that my heart aches every time I see you and I don’t know why and I don’t know how to fix it and I – I don’t even _want_ to fix it but I want it to stop, Robert…”

He abruptly stands. Lets go of Robert. Under his tumultuous bangs, his face is upset and confused.

Robert tries to reach for his hand but is brushed off. “Bry-”

“I need some time,” Borgino snaps. He grabs his coat and rushes out.

“Bry, don’t!” Robert chases after him and tries to stop him from leaving. His stoic lover is in tears and all Robert wants to do is help.

“I can’t deal with this,” Borgino cries. “I can’t, Robert, I fucking _can’t,_ okay? Leave me alone, just leave me the _fuck_ alone for a few days and I’m sure I’ll just forget about the whole thing and get over it!” He opens the door and blocks Robert from stopping him. “I don’t need to force you to deal with my miserable shit. You don’t deserve that, so just. Leave. Me. _Alone!”_

Robert’s earlier good mood has completely vanished. He clenches his fists. Stomps his foot. “Well guess-fucking-what? I’m not going to!” He reaches around and slams the front door closed. “No, don’t start giving me that bullshit now! Shut up!”

Borgino grits his teeth and angrily swipes under his eyes. “Oh great, now you’re getting all worked up about it-”

“Shut up! Shut your mouth!” Robert grabs his arm and tows him to sit down on the couch. “I am not going to leave you alone to sit in a dark cave all lonely and sad until you ‘get over it’ or whatever, which I’m assuming just means that you push down your feelings and feel ashamed about them. Well, I am not going to stand for that, okay?”

“Robert-”

“Mm!” Robert puts a finger over Borgino’s lips. He makes a conscious effort to soften his face into a slight smile. “You don’t need to be like that with me. You don’t need to hide what you’re feeling, even if you’re uncomfortable with those feelings.” He sighs and holds Borgino’s hand, which takes a few tries because Borgino’s being so damn cagey. “Listen, I just want to help you. That’s what we do, right? When you’re with someone like this, they’re supposed to listen to you and support you.”

Borgino shrugs. The anger drains into resignation. “I guess.”

“You’ve never felt this way about someone, have you?” Robert guesses. “You’ve never seriously dated anyone. Never been close to anyone. That’s why you’re like this.”

“Y-Yeah.” Borgino gives in to Robert’s soft attitude and leans to the side so he’s pressed against Robert. “No one before you. Never.”

This admission makes Robert’s chest ache. “Oh Bry…” He sighs. “You must have been so lonely…”

Borgino nods. His face is at an angle where Robert can’t see it, but he hears him sniffle.

“Well you have me now,” Robert says, trying to be more optimistic. He squeezes Borgino’s hand. “And I’m not easy to get rid of. Like when you have a cockroach infestation. If you try to take me out, bam! There I go, under your fridge to scarf up your Dorito crumbs.”

“What a flattering analogy,” Borgino croaks, still sounding rough but brightening. “I’ll be calling you my little Cockroach, then.”

“Don’t you dare!” But Robert is laughing. Borgino makes an odd sound like a choked chuckle but squeezes his hand back.

“You really should go to sleep,” Borgino quietly says after a few moments of silence. “I’ll be here.”

Robert yawns again. He grabs Borgino around the waist and pulls him down so they’re lying together on the couch. Robert’s couch is lumpy and scratchy but he immediately falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Robert had wanted to tell Borgino that he loved him too, but then was not the time. Borgino had been so emotionally fragile that he had nearly shattered and Robert hadn’t wanted to accidentally make it worse.

So he waits.

He goes back to work. Moves into his new apartment. Has a calm movie night at Borgino’s penthouse, chowing down on delivery pizza while watching some dumb documentary. Borgino loved nature documentaries, who knew?

Borgino still seemed in a rough mood the first few days after Robert returned, and that mood lasts weeks. Usually manifesting as random fits of anger, creating incidents that Robert has to hastily smooth over. Other times as extremely dark attitudes. Brooding after lunch, grumpy when Robert’s shift is ending, dark and stormy most mornings.

He even goes as far as cancelling a date.

“I’m sorry, I’m not…” He trails off. They’re in his office right before Robert was to leave for the day. “I just can’t, Robert, okay? Not tonight.”

Robert sighs and perches on Borgino’s desk. He doesn’t even get an annoyed huff about it like usual. He takes Borgino’s hand. “It’s okay, Bry. You haven’t been yourself lately. Just try to take care of yourself, okay? Promise me that you won’t spend the whole night brooding in the dark.”

Borgino guiltily pauses. “I won’t?”

“Bry…”

“Fine, I won’t. I’ll go out and take a walk or some shit.”

“Good.” Robert leans in and borrows a few kisses. “If you ever need someone to talk to...”

“I’m not going to force you to be my fucking therapist,” Borgino snaps. He sighs. “Sorry.” He jerks his hand out of Robert’s grasp. “You should go.”

Robert rolls his eyes. Now Borgino’s having a little tantrum again. “I’ll go since you want me to go,” he says. Gets up off the table and puts on his coat. “But I’m going to text you later, okay?”

“Fine, whatever.” Borgino keeps his head down, shoulders up, fingers annoyedly tapping on the desk.

He speaks up again when Robert has a foot out the door.

“Robert?”

Robert pauses but doesn’t dare turn around. Borgino’s voice is softer. Less angry. He doesn’t want to break whatever scrap of a good mood he’s got. “Yeah?”

“Can you send Sharon up?”

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Bry.”

Borgino sighs heavily. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Things get worse before they get better. Borgino’s mood spirals into a bitter displeasure with everything in the world.

Mornings? Awful. Lunchtime? He gets worse and Robert tries to take shorter and shorter lunch breaks to ease the tension there, but it doesn’t help. Borgino is upset when he’s there and even more so when he’s not. Annoyed at Robert being early for work but miserable when he has to leave early for a vet appointment. The end of Robert’s shift is the worst, though.

Borgino is silent then. He glares, eyes full of that too-intense smoldering passion: Robert can’t tell if it’s from love or anger. Borgino seemingly can’t decide which one he wants to feel right now.

“I’m leaving for the day,” Robert quietly and unnecessarily says as the clock ticks over to the appropriate time. “Do you need to me do anything else?”

No response from Borgino except a shift of the glare towards the door. Great, now he’s not even _looking_ at Robert.

“I’ll take that as a no. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early, okay?”

“No.”

That’s all he says. No other explanation or elaboration. Robert tries to stay patient, succeeds in keeping his voice from showing his frustration and hurt at Borgino’s cold attitude.

“No? No what?”

“Don’t come in tomorrow. I won’t be here.”

Another long pause. Robert sits on his little spot on the desk facing Borgino. He touches Borgino’s shoulder but gets brushed off. Borgino’s head is down, hair even more tangled and mussed than normal.

Robert holds out his hand. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to hold your hand,” he quietly demands. “Please, Bry.”

After a long minute, Borgino puts his hand in Robert’s and gently squeezes.

“Thank you. Now then, where will you be tomorrow instead of work?”

“I have an appointment.”

If only he could say more than a handful of words at once without prompting. Robert rolls his eyes.

“A doctor’s appointment?” He gets a nod. “All day?”

Borgino shrugs. “No. But it was recommended that I take the full day off for it.” He shrugs again, shoulders defensive. “Besides, I never take a day off. I deserve it, or so Sharon is always saying.”

“You do deserve days off,” Robert affirms. It lightens his heart to hear that Borgino is actually giving himself some time and that he’s going in to see some kind of doctor. Maybe this will help. “I hope your appointment goes well. I’ll text you later and also tomorrow, okay?”

He normally gets an annoyed “whatever” or stony silence in response to that statement that Robert says every day. His goodnight texts are always answered, though, even if it’s just a simple “good night” or “see you tomorrow” or once, an “ok”.

But Borgino raises his head slightly and smiles for the briefest instant that Robert almost thinks he imagined it. “Okay,” he says, then it’s back to the roughness. “Go, Robert, I’ve got shit to do.”

“Alright, I’m leaving. Have a nice day off, Bry.”

* * *

Not only does Borgino take one day off, he takes _three._

“I think it’s a good sign,” Sharon admits when she notifies Robert over the phone. Another odd thing: Borgino doesn’t tell him about these extra days himself, instead having Sharon tell Robert. “I think he’s actually taking some time to sort things out instead of just ignoring them like he usually does.”

“That – that’s good, I guess.” Sharon sounds like she knows more than Robert somehow. “He said he was going to a doctor?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Robert absently gives Cecilia a pat on her little kitty butt as she saunters by. The cat gives him an annoyed glare: Robert usually gives her wet food on Fridays but had forgotten this morning, distracted as he was with worry. “Do you know where he went? Or what he went in for? I’m just worried, Sharon. He hasn’t been himself lately.”

There is a long pause. “I don’t think he wants me to tell you,” Sharon admits. “But I go to this doctor too and he works wonders, seriously. I wouldn’t be surprised if Borgino goes into a worse mood before he gets better, but I think it won’t be long before he starts to improve. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Robert.”

The implication there is that Borgino is going to a doctor to deal with his terrible mood, so that means that he’s going to…a therapist? Robert isn’t quite sure what to think. “That – that sounds good, then. I’ll see you on Sunday for our lunch, right?”

“Sure thing. See you then!”

They have a weekly lunch together outside of work where work subjects are strictly forbidden from entering the conversation. Robert turns over his thoughts and decides that Borgino seeing someone is for the best, but only if it’s someone who can handle him and won’t be too intimidated by his demeanor or reputation. But Sharon wouldn’t have recommended someone that she didn’t think could handle their mercurial employer and mutual friend.

Enough about that. Robert sends Borgino a quick text to check up on him as he’s done every day. This time it is accompanied by a couple-second video of Cecilia regally stretching her leg out.

Unsurprisingly, he gets no response.

Until his phone vibrates a minute later.

Robert fumbles for it and nearly drops it on his poor cat. Borgino has just sent the word “cute”.

Then it shows that Borgino is typing. This continues for nearly a minute while Robert holds his breath. He doesn’t know what to expect and he doesn’t want to say anything that would ruin his boyfriend’s newfound desire for communication.

Despite all that typing, Borgino only sends: “Are you free tonight?”

“Yes,” Robert types back too quickly.

Robert gets no response to that. He sighs and makes himself some coffee, intending on setting up for a night of Animal Crossing. There was no reason to count on Borgino coming over – he’d been unreliable lately with scheduling.

He has been playing for two hours when he gets a call from Borgino. An actual _phone call._

“Hi Bry!” He chirps, wincing at his own over-enthusiasm. “Hi, how’s it going?”

“Fine.” Borgino still sounds murky and grumpy, but at least he’s communicating. “Can I stop by? I want to see you.”

Robert’s throat closes up with some odd emotion: pride? Happiness? Love?

“If it’s okay,” Borgino says during the pause. “Just for a minute or so. Unless you don’t want me to, I don’t have to, I was just driving by and I thought-”

“Hey,” Robert quietly interrupts. “It’s fine, you just caught me off-guard. I’d love to have you over for a little while.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.” Borgino does that annoying thing he always does where he hangs up without a goodbye.

A few minutes. Robert runs to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Rummages through the pile of clothing on the floor for a clean pajama top and throws it on just as his doorbell rings.

He runs over to the door and throws it open to see Borgino standing there dressed in a sharp tuxedo.

“Bry-”

Robert squeaks when Borgino sweeps him up in an embrace, his lovers’ tight arms around his waist and their mouths together. Robert wrinkles the shoulders of Borgino’s nice suit by digging his fingers in.

“I missed you,” Borgino quietly admits when he’s decided he’s had enough of the abrupt passion. He keeps his cheek against Robert’s like he did when he’d confessed his love. “I missed you and I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass this week.”

“You have been a dick,” Robert agrees. “But I’ll forgive you if you come in for a few minutes.”

“I have an event, but I can stay for a bit.” Borgino comes in and takes off his suit coat. He awkwardly stands in the middle of the living room until Robert drags him down onto the couch, cuddling against his side.

He holds Borgino’s hand and gets no resistance. “How are you feeling?”

Borgino darkly sighs. “Better. Figuring things out.”

Robert waits but he doesn’t elaborate. “That’s good. I’m glad that you’re taking care of yourself.”

“I’m trying my best.” Borgino jerks his hand out of Robert’s but before Robert’s heart has a chance to sink, Borgino wraps arms around his waist and pulls Robert into his lap. He buries his head into Robert’s hair. “I’m sorry I’m being such a piece of shit. I don’t know why you fucking stick around when I’m like this.”

“No, don’t talk like that, that’s not helping you,” Robert snaps. He leans into Borgino’s embrace, though: his lover is normally so reluctant to show physical affection.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Borgino heavily sighs, rustling Robert’s tousled hair. He is silent for nearly a minute. Robert’s patience starts to wear thin.

“Bry-”

“Thank you for sticking with me,” Borgino whispers. His arms tighten, pulling Robert even closer to him. “Thank you for being patient even when I’m like this. I don’t…” He trails off. Clears his throat and obviously changes what he was going to say. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

Robert is shocked into silence at the change in attitude. Sure, Borgino’s not smiling a lot and he’s not up dancing a jig, but he’s trying to be a bit more positive. He’s trying to improve and he just apologized for being so shitty recently.

“Robert?”

“You – you can make it up to me by taking me to the fair next weekend and buying me cotton candy,” Robert lightly says. He shifts in Borgino’s lap so he can kiss his boyfriend.

While Borgino normally seems distant and nervous during moments of physical affection, this time he seems more relaxed. He slouches back into the squeaky couch, pulling Robert back with him. He slips a hand under Robert’s pajama top by accident.

Robert squeaks at the sudden coldness on his bare skin. Borgino flinches.

“I’m sorry, I overstepped-”

“No, shut up, you’re just cold.” Robert grabs Borgino’s wrist and puts his hand back but this time a little lower, more on his hip. “Keep your hand there and you’ll warm up in a few minutes.”

“If you’re sure-”

“I am, really.” Robert smiles. “I will tell you if I’m uncomfortable, okay? And you do the same.”

Borgino briefly smiles. “I just feel like I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he admits.

Oh, right. Robert briefly feels stupid. He’s the first person that Borgino has been with romantically. No wonder Borgino always seems so awkward and lost.

“How about you just sit here, enjoy yourself, and I’ll take care of things?” Robert lowly suggests. “You don’t have to worry with me, Bry.”

Borgino nods and briefly looks dark again, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve this. “You’re too good to me.”

But he gives another one of those rare smiles when Robert leans forward and kisses him softly, slowly, his hands in Borgino’s hair undoing the old-fashioned ribbon holding his ponytail together. He keeps his hand on Robert’s skin and once or twice even rubs it, eventually moving it to the small of Robert’s back, a mere inch from slipping under the waistband of Robert’s sweatpants.

Robert does his best to show Borgino what he’s capable of, what he’s deserving of, without overwhelming him too much. He stays slow. Stays gentle. Reminds himself that every single thing he does is new to Borgino. It does give him a tiny thrill: he will be the first one to show Borgino how wonderful intimacy can be. How much he deserves to be loved.

He freezes with his lips on Borgino’s neck. He wants to tell Borgino that he loves him but isn’t sure if this is the time yet – his boyfriend still seems emotionally fragile.

“Robert?” Borgino has noticed his pause.

“Just wondering when your event is supposed to start. You’ve been here for a while already.”

Borgino shrugs and checks his sleek watch. “Oh, it started an hour ago.”

“Bry!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Borgino steals another kiss. “I’ll just miss it. Some stupid dinner party at some stupid rooftop lounge. Miss Felicity was going to be there. I’m glad to have an excuse to miss it. I – I want to stay here with you.”

“You’re going to start scandals if you keep missing events.”

“Let them start scandals without me, then. Kiss me again.”

Robert lets it go. “Bossy, bossy.”

They continue to make out for what feels like hours before Borgino seems to feel like talking again. Robert is thrown off-kilter by his newfound talkativeness.

“I need to ask you something, Robert.”

“Of course, ask away.” Robert pulls back a little and settles in Borgino’s lap. Borgino takes his hand.

Borgino frowns and looks a little green from nerves. He avoids Robert’s eyes. “I guess it’s not a question, more of a request. You don’t have to say yes and if it makes you uncomfortable then we can just drop the subject-”

“Hey.” Robert squeezes his hand. “Just tell me.”

“I want.” Borgino gustily sighs. He closes his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.”

Robert doesn’t know what to say. He goes through an operatic range of squeaks before finding his voice. “Like, right now?”

“Maybe? Never mind, I’m just being too forward-”

“No, it’s okay, you just – that just came out of nowhere!” Robert clears his throat to try to remove an odd lump. “Listen, I would love to do that with you, but I don’t have things that we would need to have sex right now.”

“Oh.” Borgino, to his horror, starts tearing up. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot-”

Robert lets go of his hand and hugs him tightly. “Don’t be like that,” he snaps. “I’m glad that you’re communicating with me. You really want this, right? You’re not just feeling pressured by something or someone? Or by me?”

“No, no, I _do_ want to – to sleep with you. Very badly. I just didn’t know how to say it and I was scared to ask you and it was driving me mad, Robert. I’m sorry.”

“Well, stop fucking worrying about it. Listen, I have to make a doctor’s appointment to make sure my tests and stuff are all up to date and get a-” Robert’s throat briefly closes up but they’ve talked about medical stuff before so none of this is new to Borgino. “And get a new birth control prescription just in case. All that won’t get sorted until at least next week so that gives you plenty of time to get things emotionally squared away on your end, okay?”

“Okay.” Borgino still seems upset. Still extremely nervous. “You just tell me when. You know my doctor, he can get you in whenever. I’ll be – I’ll be out again on Wednesday and Friday, but only the afternoons this time.”

Robert smiles and is pleased when Borgino does the same. “Sounds like a plan. Enough about logistics and all that shit, now I want _you_ to kiss me. Hard as you can.”

“Who’s bossy now?” Borgino teases, but he follows orders.


	6. (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW after the first cut!

If things between Robert and Borgino seemed charged before, now the tension is like a thick electric cable: ready to break, barely holding itself together.

At least the whole thing has been a distraction from Borgino’s awful moods. He still seems grumpier than usual and has a few moments during the week where he’s downright miserable, but those moments are becoming less and less frequent.

“You can come over this weekend,” Robert offers late in the week. He’s getting ready to leave for the day and knows that this is a time where Borgino’s mood can spiral. “I have everything arranged.”

Borgino wraps an arm around Robert’s waist and pulls him down to perch on Borgino’s lap, kissing him deeply. “Wonderful,” he grumbles. “Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Robert confirms. He’s getting wonderful little tingles where Borgino’s cold hand can be felt through the fabric of his suit, where it’s slipped under his jacket and only his shirt is preventing direct skin contact. “You can stay over and we can go somewhere Sunday morning. We’ll go to IHOP for breakfast-”

“Ew, get the fuck out of here,” Borgino jokingly says, scrunching up his nose. “Excuse me? That’s where you want to be taken? You’ve got a wonderful gourmet breakfast cafe on your block and you want IHOP? _Fucking IHOP?”_

“Don’t judge! They have good pancakes. That’s where we’re going.” Robert gives Borgino one last peck on the cheek and stands. “I’ll see you over my place Saturday, then. Whenever you want. Buy me dinner,” he jokes.

Borgino blushes. “I’ll buy you something decent and edible to make up for the fact that we’re eating IHOP pancakes afterwards,” he says, managing to keep composure. Then, more quietly and tenderly: “I’ll see you Saturday, Robert. L-Love you.”

“S-See you Saturday,” Robert answers. Not the time. It never seems to be the time to say it back.

* * *

Saturday comes too quickly.

Robert paces around his apartment. Every time he passes by his entryway mirror, he pauses to fix some piece of hair that’s gone astray. He’d felt awkward just wearing sweatpants and nothing else so he’d put on a t-shirt but then that made him feel like he should wear jeans and after that came a sweatshirt and socks and is that too much to be wearing-

He smiles to himself and breathes out a heavy sigh. It’s been about a year since he’s seriously been with anyone, but there’s no need to get all stupid and nervous. This is just a casual dinner date and extra fun with Borgino.

After a few more minutes of waiting, though, he does take off his socks. Those are just silly to have on – what if he forgets to take them off when he removes his other clothing? Sex with socks on is _not_ his thing.

The doorbell rings. Robert jumps and has to restrain himself not to run for the door. He clears his throat, waits a moment, then goes over to open it.

“I brought Italian food,” Borgino says with no other greeting. He holds out a takeout bag from the wonderful Italian place where they’d had their first date. “The best.”

“The best,” Robert agrees. “Come in, Bry.”

They get the food unpacked. Dinner is an extremely casual affair of foam containers and plastic forks and Robert leaning against Borgino’s shoulder laughing at a funny story from Borgino’s recent birdwatching class. They spend the dinner talking about other hobbies: Borgino has taken up nature photography in addition to birdwatching. He shows Robert a few of the good pictures on his phone. Robert talks about his gaming stream a few nights ago, a story told in bits and pieces around mouthfuls of garlic bread because there’s no way he’s letting that shit get cold.

But their comfortable dinner has to come to an end at some point. After cleaning up their mess and feeding Robert’s cat, they retire to Robert’s bedroom.

Robert sits on the bed but Borgino remains awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“Sit down, Bry,” he requests. “Kiss me.” He should give simple directions, he decides. Borgino’s nervous. He’s never done this before.

Borgino eases at the easy request. He sits on the bed and pulls Robert into his lap as he often does. Kisses him with the passion that nobody else really gets to see, with a warmth hidden in his shy cold exterior, with a tenderness that should be impossible from a Shark.

The kissing turns heavy naturally. Robert ends up straddling his boyfriend, Borgino’s hand on his denim-covered bottom keeping him secure.

They briefly break so Robert can take his sweatshirt off. Borgino also removes his own jacket and, after an unsure pause, his shirt. Following his lead, Robert takes his own t-shirt off. He tries not to ogle his lover’s bare chest but it’s hard when he’s never seen it before.

“I need to take you to the beach,” he teases, running a hand up and down Borgino’s pale torso.

“I don’t tan, I burn,” Borgino retorts. “But I’ll accept your gracious invitation to see you like this again.”

Good, he still has his sense of humor. He hasn’t totally panicked and closed off yet. Robert continues with light kisses, slowly moving his hand lower until his fingers are playing with the top button of Borgino’s pants. He pauses, looks up for approval, and undoes the button. Keeps the eye contact while he slips his hand under the waistband, quietly cursing to himself as he has to undo the zipper too.

Borgino doesn’t make any noise, but he rapidly blinks. His mouth falls open in a silent gasp when Robert’s fingers slip into his underwear. His hand on Robert’s thigh abruptly tightens.

“Good?” Robert confirms, a bit unnerved at his lover’s lack of a reaction.

“Yes,” Borgino whispers.

“Okay. Um, this is going to start hurting my wrist in a moment. Can I take your pants off?”

“Yes,” he again answers.

Robert has to briefly climb off to get the job done, deciding to remove his own jeans while he’s at it. He also takes special care to remove Borgino’s socks and carefully set those aside. His boyfriend is weird about things, one of them his socks. Then he climbs over the bed and grabs a few necessary things before returning to Borgino.

Now that Borgino’s hands are against his bare skin, Robert shivers. Borgino buries his head in his neck, giving kisses instead of his usual bites. He’s gotten less shy about touching Robert, one of his hands even being as bold as to play with the edge of Robert’s underwear, his other hand on Robert’s chest.

“Not going too fast?” Robert checks in after a few minutes of light touching.

“Not too fast,” Borgino rumbles. “Just perfect. You – you’re just perfect.”

“You’re too sweet. You’ll tell me if I do go too fast, right?” Robert twists a curl of Borgino’s hair around a finger. “Now, I was thinking that we can start easy so you don’t have to do much. I’ll ride you and all you have to do is sit there. And then maybe after that we can switch and I can fuck you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Borgino still looks nervous.

They have to do more rearranging. It’s not romantic at all, Robert admits to himself. There’s a lot of talking about positions and how to do things and lots of fumbling when the condoms come out because Robert had turned the lights out and now he has to turn them back on because Borgino isn’t doing it right so he has to do it but he can’t see in the dark-

And it’s not romantic but it doesn’t have to be.

It’s all worth it because when they finally get situated and Robert sinks down onto his lover, Borgino gasps and shallowly thrusts up into him out of pleasured instinct. Robert squeaks and bounces in response. Sure, Borgino’s not _big_ by anyone’s standards, but it’s been a year since he’s done this.

“Didn’t really need to go to the gym today,” he jokes between bounces. “I got my leg day right here.”

“You – you didn’t even go to the gym today at all,” Borgino retorts, recognizing the attempt at lightening the intense atmosphere. “You never go to the gym.”

“Maybe I need to.” Robert is already sweating. Being on top is _hard._

Borgino looks even more disheveled. Half of his ponytail has fallen out. One of his hands is fisted in the bedspread and the other is similarly anchored in the skin of Robert’s hip. He keeps baring his fangs in a weird subconscious vampiric instinct.

His breathing picks up when Robert slows down, focusing more on quality rather than quantity of stimulation. Also, he feels like he just ran a marathon and needs a break. He puts a hand between their bodies to touch himself, giving him a bit of a break.

“R-Robert,” Borgino breathily whispers, already dark voice even huskier. “Oh Robert…”

“Good?” Robert has _never_ been with someone so nonresponsive and quiet before. He feels like he owes Borgino the best damn experience ever since it’s his first time and he can’t do that if Borgino doesn’t fucking _talk_ to him.

“Oh Robert,” Borgino only answers. His calm veneer is starting to show cracks. He’s breathing heavily but quietly, steady rhythm unbalancing. “Oh Robert…” He grunts so quietly that Robert almost thinks that the bed made the noise. “Oh Robert-”

His voice breaks as he orgasms without any other warning. Robert yelps: he was _just_ about to ask Borgino if he was still good. Apparently he was more than good.

Robert climbs off him after a few seconds and takes care of the condom. He yelps again when Borgino grabs him around the waist and pulls him close to kiss him. Borgino may not be much taller than him, but that fucking vampiric strength lets him manhandle Robert all he wants.

“I love you,” Borgino rumbles. Speaking for Robert’s ears alone.

Robert catches his breath. “I love you too,” he unthinkingly says, not registering what he said until Borgino freezes. “I love you, Bry,” he repeats. “I do.”

Borgino doesn’t say anything for several long minutes. He has his face buried in Robert’s hair, making his expression unreadable. Before Robert has a chance to get too nervous about his reaction, he lowers his head and briefly smiles to himself. His golden eyes make contact with Robert’s again and they’re softer than Robert has ever seen them.

“I love you,” he repeats. “But I feel a bit selfish. It’s been all about me.”

“Oh, we’ll be doing more later once you get a bit of time to recover,” Robert excuses. “Don’t even worry about it. There’ll be time for me in there.”

Borgino bares his teeth again. “But I want to make you _happy,”_ he growls. “And I don’t know _how_ because you’re not telling me _how-”_

“Well then I will,” Robert quickly intervenes as his normally calm lover is getting a little feral at the idea. “It will give me a break if – if you want to go down on me? But watch the teeth.”

Those fangs flash again in a smile. “I don’t bite,” Borgino teases.

Robert lays back on some pillows and spreads his legs. “You’d better fucking not,” he says with a grin. “Just take your time and explore, Bry.”

Borgino does so, kissing and licking and doing other indescribable things with his tongue and lips and his fingers once Robert gives permission for that. For someone who has never done this before, he’s pretty damn good at it. Robert actually has to tell him to _stop_ a few times, not because anything is wrong, but rather because he wants to not exhaust himself while so much of the night is left. He has a bad habit of immediately falling asleep after finishing and he doesn't want things to end quite so soon.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Borgino growls during a break. “You’re going to get complaints from the neighbors.”

“No and yes,” Robert brightly says. “Nope I never shut up, and yep I’ll probably get a few anonymous notes telling me to take it my boyfriend’s place if I’m going to be so loud. I don’t give a single fuck, I’ll be as loud as I damn well please.”

Enough time has passed for Borgino to have come down from his initial orgasm and if they keep going like this, then Robert is going to have one too early. He gently maneuvers them away and grabs more shit from his bed. His stupid new harness has slid off the bed and he has to reach down to pick it back up. Borgino sneaks in a quick kiss to his exposed ass before helping him retrieve it with his dumb longer arms. Borgino even helps him put it on.

Now that he’s put his hands on Robert, he doesn’t seem like he wants to stop. That changes things – Robert had originally thought of doing this spooning on the bed but it doesn’t look likely that Borgino would be happy being a little spoon, so basic missionary it is.

He has a non-intimidating dick (aka tiny), the best lube (and plenty of it), and a reliable little bullet vibrator (not turned on yet) for Robert’s harness because he’s not sure how long this is going to take and it’s always nice to be prepared.

They start slow. For fuck’s sake, they start so fucking _slow._

“Good?” Robert asks for the fourteenth time.

Borgino is still being oddly quiet. His hands are on Robert’s waist, squeezing gently once in a while. “Good,” he mumbles.

“Okay, well that’s all the way in.” Robert sighs and takes a few deep breaths. “How many fucking calories does having sex burn? Because I think I need to cancel my gym membership if we do this every night.”

“You – you don’t go to the gym. I – I know you don’t even have a damn gym membership.” Borgino does give a small gasp when Robert starts gently thrusting. “Maybe – maybe we can negotiate twice a week? If – if you’re going to keep doing this.”

 _“Twice a week?”_ Robert exclaims, a bit too loudly. He’s not even sure that Borgino’s joking. “You can blow me all the time if you want but,” he pauses again to catch his breath, “but getting dicked down is a special treat, okay? I’m putting my fucking foot down right now. Once a week, _max.”_

Just to speed things up, he uses his free hands on Borgino, who _finally_ starts making unprompted noises as his cool and calm demeanor starts to crumble, especially when Robert shifts a little and obviously hits something wonderful. That’s his cue to quickly turn on his harness vibe and keep going.

Borgino’s vocabulary has once again been reduced to “yes”, “fuck”, and “Robert.” Honestly, Robert isn’t any more eloquent right now. He’s just trying to make sure that Borgino is still doing good even as his own pleasure tingles in his fingertips and shaking thighs.

Thankfully for Robert’s physical stamina, Borgino can’t last that long and he orgasms early enough for Robert to match him.

He pulls out, slips harness and accessories to the side, and curls up on top of Borgino to kiss him. Still breathless, panting in between Borgino’s heavy kisses.

“I love you,” he wheezes. “Bry, I love you…”

Borgino breathes in sharply. “Say it again. I can’t get used to it.”

Robert smiles. His lover and his quirks… “I love you, Bry. I love you, love you…” He yawns. His energy is starting to slide into a strong desire to fall asleep laying right on top of his boyfriend.

He does that almost immediately, one last “love” on his lips as he succumbs to a blissful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert, about to pass out from all the banging: *this is what I call a pro gamer move*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick family interlude.

They spend the rest of the weekend together. First going to IHOP despite Borgino’s protests, then enjoying a local artist festival.

The next week, Borgino’s infrequent bad moods grow even less common. He’s still extremely grumpy in the mornings and late afternoons, but he doesn’t snap and yell at people quite so much. He’s out again on that Wednesday for another appointment.

Since Borgino’s gone, Robert has the day off.

That morning, he gets up way too early and throws on an old concert t-shirt, a hoodie he’s had since middle school that has bleach stains on the sleeves, and ripped jeans. He’s even careful to wear his rattiest sneakers. Where he’s going, it’s not smart to look like you have money.

On the way, he stops at a McDonalds at his Express exit and gets hot breakfast sandwiches, coffee, and a few pieces of fresh fruit. Those go into his backpack before he leaves. This McDonalds has bars over its windows, mostly obscuring its enticing signs.

Robert tries not to wrinkle his nose as he comes out of the Express. Someone is barbequing, and not well. He flips his hood up, keeps his hands in his pockets, and walks fast.

Sure, he grew up in this neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean he’s comfortable in it. He trusts his old neighbors and a handful of others, but a lot of unknown people have moved in since he moved out a few years ago.

But some things are the same. Many of the same businesses have survived. The dollar store, the local laundromat, and a trio of pawn shops on his way look untouched. Even the Mexican bakery is still here, albeit with bulletproof glass in its window now. Robert pauses in front of it before stopping in.

He quickly picks out a few favorite pastries while chatting with Mrs. Lopez, the store owner. She loudly asks him in Spanish about his life, his job, anything she can think to ask. Robert answers as vaguely as he can: life is going well, job is super busy, his cat is well. Mrs. Lopez is a notorious gossip.

Robert doesn’t want to lie to his childhood neighbors and friends, but he’s also extremely careful not to let on that he is financially successful. Nobody knows that the Bakowski’s punk kid has money now, and he wants to keep it that way. It would only cause problems.

He does splurge on the pastries, though, even picking up a loaf of bread. The Lopez Bakery’s stuff is cheap and he wants to support them. If they ever went out of business, that would mean bad things for the neighborhood.

After the bakery, he crosses the street. There’s no need to hide his bakery bag. If anything, he makes sure it’s clearly visible: it’ll mark him as a local even to those who don’t recognize him. He ignores the kids playing basketball and the shifty teenagers nearby. They eye him suspiciously but don’t do anything. Robert has to pass by an abandoned store that has sat empty and rotting for as long as he can remember: nothing seems to want to move in there. Passing that building, he doesn’t look around himself and he doesn’t dawdle. Local gangs like to hang out there. If not gangs, then people who see this neighborhood as an easy place to do shit without getting caught.

But he makes it to where he’s going without incident. The apartment building lobby has shards of glass that Robert carefully steps around before entering. Unlike his own apartment building, there’s no security beyond a lock that broke twenty years ago and never got fixed.

“Come to beg a free breakfast off your papa, Robert?” A heavily accented voice asks.

Robert turns to see the landlord, a shrewd man named Antoni. Like Robert’s mother, Antoni was a Polish immigrant, though he had lived in New York longer and had managed to scrape together the funds to buy a crumbling apartment building. Unlike most local landlords, he was reasonably honest.

“But when he makes such good _chilaquiles,_ how could I not?” Robert jokes. He holds up the bakery bag. “And I got a _concha_ for him.”

“How generous,” Antoni dryly remarks. “We haven’t seen you around, Robert. Too good now for your old street?”

“I’ve been working overtime,” Robert lies with a pout. “Weekends, too. No time to get over here.”

Antoni crosses his arms. “Hm. You’ve got new glasses. How much did those fancy little things cost you?”

Robert absently touches his glasses and holds back a wince. It’s easy to wear old clothes. Not so easy when all your old glasses don’t fit anymore. He shrugs and hopes that Antoni will drop it.

Not so lucky. “Where are you living now, anyways? Far away enough that it’s a trip, somewhere fancy enough where you can forget all about us. Make enough money with your _overtime_ to buy yourself some new glasses, when all I saw you in when you were a little baby was secondhand ones?”

“New boyfriend bought them for me,” Robert blurts. Not entirely a lie: Borgino provided these glasses for him. “He likes to spoil me.”

Antoni laughs. “You got a brand-new boytoy who spoiled you with somethin’ so fancy?”

Robert increases the fiction. “We got in an awful fight,” he confides. “He’s so needy all the damn time but he likes what I’ve _got,_ so I told him I needed something to remind me how much he loved me.” Robert winks. “Lucky for me that I left my eyeglass prescription laying around.”

“Lucky for you,” Antoni agrees, his suspicions brushed off by the elaborate lie. “Don’t keep your papa waiting, now.”

“I won’t. See you around, Antoni.” Robert quickly escapes and jogs up to his parents’ apartment.

His parents still lived in a shabby C-1 apartment after all these years. Not the same one that Robert had grown up in, as that unit had been condemned by the city and they’d moved a few years ago into one a few floors down.

As soon as Robert gets his next promotion, he’ll be eligible to sponsor his parents for a C-3 apartment. He’ll discuss it with them before he decides, of course, but his mind is already made up. His parents deserve something nice. They’re getting old and the stress of work is taking its toll on them. They need to retire, or at the very least take less hours, in a place where they can be happy and comfortable.

He even has a location picked out: there are a few apartment buildings down the street from Strulo’s pawn shop-gym-tamale place. The neighborhood is warm and safe and most people there speak Spanish. There will be other old men for his father to play cards with. There is not the same small Polish community as there is here, but his mother knows a lot of English and can easily make friends.

Robert knocks on his parents’ apartment door.

His father opens after a few moments. Robert’s father, Miguel, is short and dark with a fluffy mess of hair not unlike Robert’s own. He has many wrinkles on his soft face, many streaks of grey in his brown hair. He pulls Robert into a delighted hug. His hands, rough and dry from his cleaning job, tousle Robert’s hair before pulling him into the apartment.

“Robert!” His father exclaims before starting a barrage of questions in Spanish.

Unlike Robert’s mother, who learned English for many years before she came over to New York, Robert’s father barely knows enough English to order his own food at a restaurant, no more.

They sit down at the small kitchen table. The “kitchen” area was not separated from the “living room”, which was only separated from the “bedroom” by a curtain and a stack of books. There was no washroom, meaning that one would have to use the communal facilities down the hall as was the norm for this style of apartment.

Robert happily and openly answers his father’s questions as he gets out their food. His father is excited to see the fresh pastries and even more so at the “restaurant” McDonalds food. It feels silly to Robert now, but even fast food was a rare luxury when he was growing up. It’s hard to explain that to Borgino and sometimes Robert can’t help but get frustrated at him because his boyfriend never seems to _understand_ it.

His dad gulps down the hot coffee and munches on the breakfast sandwiches while Robert devours his own. His father insists upon splitting the large _concha_ pastry, joking that they both need to cut down on sweets.

“Your mother will be back this weekend,” his father informs him. “She’d love to see you.”

Robert’s mother works as a commercial delivery driver. She works for at least three weeks in a row, then was home for anywhere from a few days to a full week. It was her job that provided the family with most of their income as well as their health insurance. But it also meant that she was gone more often than not. Robert had mostly grown up without her presence. Even now, years later, that still wasn’t easy to get over.

“I’ll come over,” Robert promises. “Or we can go out somewhere. The zoo, maybe.”

“Bring your boy,” his father suggests. “What was his name? Brian?”

“Bryant,” Robert supplies. He’d already explained their relationship to his parents, who didn’t judge that Borgino was _also_ his boss. _And_ also a vampire. _And_ a filthy rich Shark. “Alright Papa, I’ll bring him.”

His father smiles. “That’s good, that’s good. Your mother wants to meet him so badly. Me too. He sounds so interesting.”

Robert glances at his watch. “Papa, I’m keeping you too long. Didn’t you say your shift starts at ten?”

“That’s right. You can walk with me to the Express, Robert. I won’t be late if we leave in a few minutes.” His father hurriedly grabs his uniform and leads them out.

Walking back to the Express station is less stressful with his father walking with him. Robert hugs his father goodbye and promises to contact him as soon as he decides what they’re going to do that weekend.

They separate in the station, going to different lines. Robert back to the near-Downtown area, his father to a suburb.

On the way home, Robert stops at a mall where he buys his father a new pair of shoes, having noticed his old ones were falling apart at the soles. A plain black pair of tennis shoes that would blend in and not look too nice. But he also gets special inserts to make them even more comfortable.

While he’s at the mall, he also goes to the game store to look at the latest releases, torn between a few options for his upcoming stream. He's doing a charity stream for a local animal shelter, so maybe an animal-themed game?

Robert happily picks out a new game and goes home to relax for the rest of the day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a non-consensual blood drinking warning on it (not Borgino).

The weekend comes too quickly.

Unfortunately, Borgino had spiraled immediately after Robert told him that his parents wanted to meet him. His anxiety had manifested as several days of an awful mood. He’d yelled at every single person in the office except for Robert. He’d even yelled at Sharon, who had then yelled back, crying, and that had made Borgino feel guilty and even worse.

But even though Robert had suggested that maybe their meeting could occur on another weekend in a few months, Borgino had insisted that he didn’t want to put it off.

That Friday, the day before their meeting, Robert confronts Borgino when he’s getting ready to leave.

“Hey,” he quietly says, taking Borgino’s hand.

 _“What,_ Robert?” Borgino snaps, but without much force.

Robert sighs and squeezes his hand. “You should come over tonight. I’ve got a stream but you can stay over. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Borgino grumbles. “I got us all tickets for tomorrow.”

“Good. We can meet up at the Express station down the block from the zoo if we don’t go there together. What are you going to wear?”

“Whatever the fuck is in my closet, Robert,” he snaps again.

Robert takes a deep breath. He reminds himself that Borgino’s foul attitude is stemming from his anxiety over this. “Dress down as much as you can,” he suggests. “But nothing too ripped, okay? My mom would like if you looked put-together. My dad doesn’t give a shit and will love you no matter what.” He interlocks their fingers. “So just relax.”

“Thanks, Robert, I didn’t think of that,” Borgino sarcastically snipes. “You make it sound so easy.”

A long silence passes.

“Sorry,” Borgino awkwardly blurts. He pulls his hand out of Robert’s grasp. “You should go.”

Robert heavily sighs. He perches in Borgino’s lap. His boyfriend’s arms wrap around his waist automatically. “Everything is going to turn out fine,” Robert whispers. “You have nothing to worry about. _Nothing,_ Bry. They’re going to like you.”

Borgino bares his fangs in a snarl. “No, they’re going to fucking _hate_ me.”

“No, stop that!” Robert gently shoves Borgino’s shoulders. “Shut the fuck up. Do you know my parents? I didn’t think so. I _do_ know them, Bry, and I am telling you honestly that they will like you. Just you wait.”

“If you fucking say so,” Borgino growls, a deep upset rumble in the back of his throat.

“I do say so. And you know me, I’m _always_ right.” Robert puts a hand on Borgino’s cheek. “Listen. Just try to relax. I’ve already told them all about you. You don’t have to put on any show or pretend to be how you’re not. They won’t mind if you’re a little quiet or shy.”

Borgino’s shoulders stop being ramrod-tense. He leans into Robert’s touch. His arms around his waist tighten, and he even rubs Robert’s hip. “Fine.”

“Good,” Robert chirps. “Come over tonight, then. We’ll hang out. You can stay just off-camera during the stream. We can get food.”

“I’ll come over,” Borgino agrees. “You should get going, though. Love you. See you later.”

“Love you too! Text me when you’re on your way.” Robert gives him a quick few kisses before leaving.

He heads home immediately to start setting up for his gaming stream. On the walk home, he thinks about maybe changing the angle of his webcam setup so that Borgino can hang out next to him but still be out of frame, and if he moves his webcam then he might have to move his mic and that might get in the way of his controller-

So absorbed in his thoughts, Robert ignores the prickle on the back of his neck that makes him feel like he’s being watched. He enters his apartment building and goes into the elevator. He taps his foot on the elevator ride, still thinking about his upcoming stream and then going to see his parents tomorrow.

The elevator dings at his floor. The door slides open. Robert steps out-

And runs into a woman in the doorway.

“Oh, excuse m-” He looks up and the words die on his tongue.

Miss Felicity, Borgino’s greatest enemy and one of the most feared Sharks in New York, wickedly smiles. She puts a hand on Robert’s chest and shoves him back into the elevator. “Such a polite young man,” she quietly comments. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Robert.”

Behind her, her bodyguard steps into the elevator and pushes a series of buttons. The doors close.

Despite himself, Robert starts to _panic._

“It – it’s nice to meet you,” he stammers. “I – I’m afraid I w-wasn’t expecting to see you here.” His hands feel clammy and he feels slightly sick. He tries to back away from Felicity, but his back hits the elevator wall.

Felicity is holding onto the front of his suit. She’s not physically taller than him but it still feels like she’s looming. Her face is inches from Robert’s, her hand keeping him pinned in place. Her fangs flash as her smirk widens. She gives him a once-over glance. The grin twists. “I see that Borgino’s getting desperate,” she comments. “Tell me, do you actually get any work done, or are you just on your knees under his desk the whole day?”

Robert flushes. He doesn’t want Felicity to get to him but – but he doesn’t know what to say in response to such a vulgar and insulting comment. He can only produce indignant squeaks.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it,” Felicity cruelly continues. “You wouldn’t be the first. And you won’t be the last.”

Somehow, Robert’s face gets even hotter at the implication. She’s lying, of course, just trying to cause doubt in their relationship. He knows that she’s lying. But it does have the desired effect of making him uncomfortable. He lowers his eyes and tries to ignore her. That’s all he should do: not pay her any mind.

Miss Felicity grabs Robert’s chin and yanks his head back up. “Don’t ignore me,” she furiously hisses. “Do not _fucking_ ignore me!” She abruptly smiles again. “Now, where was I? Oh, right. How old are you, Robert?”

Her grip loosens enough for him to speak. “T-Twenty-four,” Robert stutters.

“Twenty-four?” Felicity mockingly laughs. “Aw, his little ‘assistants’ keep getting younger and younger! How cute, Robert. What do your parents think of you being with such an _older_ man? Oh, and of course, with your _boss._ I bet they’re _thrilled,_ aren’t they?”

That’s the last straw. Robert summons all his confidence and all his boldness. He grabs Felicity’s wrist and jerks it away. “Shut up,” he snaps. “Don’t talk like that about my family. You don’t know them and you don’t know me and – and you don’t even really know Borgino, so just shut up and leave me alone!”

Felicity’s fangs are suddenly at his throat, her hand fisted in Robert’s hair yanking his head back. She doesn’t bite. Yet. “How _dare_ you talk back to me like that,” she snarls, every word scraping her fangs against Robert’s exposed skin. “I should kill you for such disrespect.”

“I – I don’t owe you respect,” Robert retorts. “Fuck – Fuck off.” His breathing is coming too quickly for him to pretend like he’s not scared: Felicity could rip out his throat as easily as biting into a peach.

Hopefully, such an attack would provoke a bloody Shark war. That could be enough to grant Robert some level of protection from her. He knows that Borgino and Felicity have a pseudo-truce when it comes to close individuals: Sharon is included, as is Felicity’s bodyguard. Robert’s not sure where he stands.

Felicity is silent for a long time. The only sound in the elevator is Robert’s shallow breathing.

“I take back what I said about you being polite,” Felicity growls. Her fangs still rest on his neck. “I think you are nothing but an insolent, rude, mouthy little boy.”

“I think you – you should shut up and – and let me go,” Robert retorts. “Fuck off, Felicity, you’re trespassing and I will have you dragged out by – by security-”

He yelps. Felicity just tugged on his tie, loosening it to nearly the point of falling off. She lets go of his hair, though he doesn’t dare move due to her fangs, and yanks open the top few buttons of his dress shirt.

Robert tries to squirm to no avail. “What the fuck are you doing-”

“I think you need to be taught to _shut the hell up!”_ Felicity sinks her sharp fangs into the skin over Robert’s collarbone.

Despite being bitten on a regular basis, this hurts ten times more than any time Borgino has ever fed from him. The location makes it feel like she’s biting his heart and she’s slowly dragging her teeth so that it never _stops_ hurting. When Borgino bites, it almost immediately fades into numbness. But with Felicity, it’s burning and still stabbing with every small movement of her jaw.

To Robert’s horror, tears well up in his eyes. A few spill over down his cheeks. He wants to scream or make some kind of noise but can’t manage more than a few small whimpers. There’s nothing worse than feeling helpless like this and – and violated somehow, because biting is a special intimate thing between him and Borgino but now Felicity is doing it but _wrongly-_

It doesn’t last long. Felicity tightens her jaw one last time before releasing Robert and shoving him to the floor.

“Quiet now, aren’t you?” She taunts.

Robert wants so badly to give her a piece of his mind, but he bites his lip and keeps his head down. He has a hand pressed over his wound, which is sluggishly bleeding and aching with every labored breath.

She kneels and takes his chin in hand. He can hear the smile in her amused chuckle. “A quiet boy is a good boy,” she lowly says. “A polite little kid doesn’t get hurt, Robert. Stay out of the grown-ups’ way and don’t talk back to your elders, okay?”

 _Fuck off,_ Robert wants to snap. But he stays quiet and nods. There’s standing up for yourself, and then there’s being stupid.

“Good.” Felicity stands. “I’m glad you understand. Have a nice weekend, Robert.”

She breezes out the elevator, her bodyguard closely following. Robert glares at her retreating back.

When she’s out of sight, he wipes his face on his sleeve and shakily stands. It’s only a short walk down the hall to his apartment. He fumbles for the lock before managing to open it and stumble into his apartment.

His cat Cecilia meows and sniffs at his entrance, smelling the blood and sensing Robert’s upset.

Shit, the blood. Robert wasn’t going to tell Borgino about this today but his boyfriend will smell the blood from a mile away. He wanted to wait until this whole thing with his parents was finished, not wanting to add more stress to Borgino’s already tense life. But the blood, the blood…

Robert thinks while he bandages his bite wound. The thinking helps calm him. One prissy vampire bully won’t stop him. _Fuck_ Felicity.

His cat nosing open the bathroom door gives him an idea.

 _Cat bit and scratched me to hell and back,_ he texts Borgino. _She’s in a weird mood._

Then, he does every single thing that he can think of to piss off his cat until his text becomes truth.

 _Are you okay?_ Borgino has responded.

Robert sends a picture of his torn-up arms and legs. _I’ll live,_ he texts back. _Bring me ice cream._

Borgino says that he’s on his way but will stop by the store and grab food for them. Robert quickly sets up his gaming equipment for his stream. He’s going to forget all about Felicity’s shit and he’s going to enjoy himself tonight and tomorrow, if only to spite her.

She will not scare him. She will not make him cower. She will not ruin his relationship. She will _certainly_ not ruin his wonderful night. He will not let her get under his skin. He will not give her the fucking satisfaction.

He’s nearly finished setting up his stream when Borgino arrives with food. His boyfriend tuts over Robert’s injuries, his sensitive nose twitching at the strong blood smell. But he relaxes when he sees that the scratches and bites look gnarly but are shallow. They eat dinner while Robert is doing his final setup and equipment checks.

Every awful memory of his encounter with Felicity is pushed out his mind as Robert begins his gaming stream. He prepares his positive high-energy personality as he starts the stream and waits for a good amount of people to join.

Borgino taps Robert’s knee. He’s sitting just out of frame, seemingly content to watch Robert play and relax.

“Hm?” Robert turns and mutes his mic on instinct.

“You okay?” Borgino whispers. “You look, I don’t know, fucking scared or something.”

Robert forces a shaky smile. “I’m just a little nervous about tomorrow,” he lies. “I want to distract myself.”

Borgino takes it. “Okay.” He grabs Robert’s hand and squeezes it. He does have to let go of his hand when it’s finally time for Robert to start playing, so he holds onto Robert’s thigh instead.

Robert starts his stream, first introducing his charity of the month: a local animal shelter. Then he explains the game he’s playing: a pet care dating simulator.

“So we need to level up our pet in order to advance our stats so we can better romance our potential suitors,” he explains. To his side, Borgino quietly huffs a laugh. “What?” Robert faux-angrily demands. “It’s a very serious game!”

 _If you say so,_ Borgino silently mouths. Robert rolls his eyes and starts playing.

The stream goes great: lots of people donate, more people watch than last time, the chat seems overwhelmingly positive. And lots of people ask about who Robert is occasionally glancing at or talking to.

 _Do you have a friend over?_ The chat asks. _Who’s with you? Can they introduce themselves? Can we see them?_ And lots of other questions.

Robert is no stranger to personal questions about his life outside gaming. Most everybody watching wondered why all of Robert’s stream donations went to charity. There was plenty of speculation about what Robert’s job was and how much money he made, that he could afford all his fancy equipment without taking a single dollar of stream donations. People also asked often if Robert was single, if the stream was keeping him from anyone on a Friday night.

He’d gotten increasingly good at vaguely answering the many questions: Yes, he worked at a job that let him afford his gaming equipment. No, he was not single. No, his boyfriend didn’t mind his streaming schedule.

But he’s not sure how to answer more specific questions about Borgino.

During a break, he mutes his mic and plops onto Borgino’s lap just out of frame.

“You’re doing well,” Borgino comments. His cold hands slip under Robert’s shirt. “People love you.”

“It’s my stellar charisma.” Robert shifts and holds back a wince. His recent bite wound is starting to ache again. “People want to know about you.”

Borgino, so relaxed, suddenly tenses. “How much?”

“Just vague things,” Robert explains. “Nothing too personal. You don’t have to show your face.”

“Fine,” Borgino grumbles. “Humans are always too fucking curious about everything.”

“It’s one of our many strengths.” Robert stands. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

He goes to the bathroom and runs the sink faucet to cover the noise of the painkillers in his cabinet. Robert takes one. He flushes the toilet, pauses, and comes back.

While he grinds his virtual pet care so he can level up enough to go on a date with his hot neighbor, he opens up the chat to questions about Borgino.

“He’s my boyfriend, so be nice,” he orders. “He’s camera-shy, so don’t ask to see his face.”

The chat is very excited that Robert’s boyfriend is on stream with him.

 _What’s his name?_ Someone asks.

“Bryant,” Borgino gruffly responds. “Fucking stupid first question.”

“Don’t be rude,” Robert reproaches, lightly hitting him on the arm. “I hadn’t told them your name.”

 _Why hasn’t Bryant been on before?_ Another person wants to know.

“Fucking busy. But I had this evening off of work.”

_What is your work?_

“I’m an accountant.” Probably the vaguest way that Borgino could put that.

_How did you and Robert meet?_

Borgino surprises Robert with his answer. “Through a work party,” Borgino lies. “He works in the same building as me.”

_What do you like most about Robert?_

Even though he can’t be seen, Borgino blushes.

“Aww,” Robert coos. “Can’t pick just one thing?”

Borgino flips him off. “His fucking constant positivity,” he responds. “No matter what, he always seems to be so goddamn _optimistic.”_

That makes Robert’s heart ache because it’s never more true than right now. Borgino has no idea how true his words are. Robert quickly turns back to the camera and puts on a smile. “And that’s all the questions for now,” he declares. “More later if-” he checks his donation counter “-if we make our next stretch goal!”

The rest of the stream goes smoothly. Robert puts his soul into it. Anything to distract himself from Felicity. Anything to make him forget that his boyfriend is going to meet his parents in less than twenty-four hours. Borgino gets bored a few more hours into the stream and ends up watching a nature documentary on his phone, leaning against Robert’s shoulder as Robert finishes up his long stream and shuts everything down.

“Time for bed,” Robert declares. He slips into his bedroom and grabs his pajamas, hurrying into the bathroom to change clothes out of Borgino’s sight. When he comes back into his bedroom, Borgino is already lounging on the bed.

Robert cuddles up to him. Borgino is more than happy to wrap his arms around him, rubbing Robert’s back until he falls asleep feeling safe and protected. Ready for another stressful day tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, they spend the morning relaxing together. Robert orders breakfast delivered, which he eats on the couch with his legs across Borgino’s lap. Then Robert convinces Borgino to play Minecraft with him.

It’s a good idea, even if Borgino grumbles and curses the entire time. The game is a wonderful distraction for Borgino. They build a house together in the game in a Survival world: Robert gathers basic resources to keep them both fed and protected while Borgino spends a ridiculous time getting fancy items so that their house doesn’t look “fucking terrible.”

They have to stop before the house is completed, since Borgino has insisted that the entire floor be made of Nether Quartz blocks and Polished Blackstone in an intricate pattern, and that all of the windows be made of similarly decorated Stained Glass blocks. And then he wants the most resource-intensive lighting possible, which left Robert scrambling to find heaps of Redstone to fulfill his boyfriend’s expensive Minecraft tastes.

But it’s getting close to when they need to leave to go the zoo to meet Robert’s parents.

Robert saves their world and then shuts down the game. He quickly changes from pajamas. He wears a plain t-shirt, a pair of acid-wash jeans, a soft thin hoodie with a gaming logo, and a pair of broken-in boots. His trusty Pokemon crossbody bag holds a bottle of water, a few snacks, a pair of headphones, and a couple of handheld gaming consoles.

Borgino, now almost physically rattling with nerves, drives them to his penthouse. There is a brief argument about clothing before Borgino lets Robert pick out his outfit.

It’s not an easy task: Borgino seems to only own crisp office wear or tattered punk clothing that has to be decades old. Robert’s mother has _strong_ feelings about ripped clothing, so nothing with holes can be involved.

The outfit that Robert picks out is a pair of black leather skinny pants, a weathered punk band shirt that is miraculously intact, an oversized turquoise fur coat, and a pair of sturdy combat boots. Borgino adds a few more chains and studs per Robert’s assurance that his parents won’t care about it. Whatever will make Borgino more comfortable.

All of Borgino’s long curly hair gets put into a messy bun and under a slouchy beanie. His hair is distinctive and they do not want to be recognized tonight. After a few smudges of dark eyeshadow around Borgino’s eyes and another quick fix of his hair, they leave together.

When they arrive at the Bronx Zoo, they’re about ten minutes early. They’d taken the Express instead of driving, so they sit on a bench together near the Express exit to wait for Robert’s parents. Robert bounces his leg and resists the urge to pull out his GameBoy. He _hates_ waiting. Borgino also seems to mind the wait: he’s fisting and unfisting his hands in the faux fur of his jacket.

Thankfully, Robert’s parents aren’t late.

Robert sees his mother first. Luisa Bakowski, Robert’s mom, is a little taller than his father, broader too. Her long brown hair is pulled into a neat braid. Gently sloping short bangs cover her large forehead (that she passed down to Robert), and small silver wire-frame glasses help her bright blue eyes pop. Accompanying her plain fake-gold earrings is a septum piercing she said she got at a college rager party in Poland while she was studying English.

 _“Mamo!”_ Robert calls out to her, knowing that his bastardized Polish will catch her attention more than anything else. He stands and waves. Borgino stands too and puts an arm around his waist to stabilize Robert when he waves too enthusiastically and nearly unbalances.

“Robert!” She yells back when she sees him.

They crash together in a hug. Robert’s mother is soft to hug. She smells of gasoline and road dust, of gas stations and fast-food truck stops. There are new bags under her eyes, new callouses on her hands. Robert squeezes her tight and is pleased to feel that there is plenty to squeeze: sometimes his mother’s company “forgets” to give her a per-diem for the road, and she goes hungry trying to make sure she has as much money as possible to send home so they can make rent. But not this month.

Robert’s father, Miguel, trails behind. He gives Robert a big hug too even though they saw each other a few days ago.

 _“Papa, Mamo,_ I brought Bryant,” Robert says as if they hadn’t already known. Borgino is hanging back awkwardly, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and shoulders hunched.

Luisa extends a hand to him with a warm smile. “Oh Bryant, it’s so nice to meet you,” she says in accented but smooth English. “Our son has told us so much about you. He says you’re always so busy, so it’s very nice of you to take time to be with us.”

Borgino shakes her hand. He clears his throat a few times before quietly answering. “It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Bakowski.” It sounds like he’s got something stuck in his throat. “I hope the roads were…good.”

She laughs. “The roads were very good, thank you. And please call me Luisa. Or _Mamo,_ like Robert does.”

“O-Okay.” Borgino looks like whatever is in his throat is choking him.

Surprisingly, Robert’s father Miguel looks similarly nervous, though not quite so petrified. “Bryant, I am happy to – to meet you,” he stammers in rough English, mangling the more difficult vowels.

Borgino holds up a hand. “Mr. Bakowski, I do speak Spanish,” he says in serviceable but stilted Spanish.

Miguel’s face breaks into a wide smile. He laughs and sweeps Borgino into a hearty hug, slapping him on the back twice before releasing him. “My boy didn’t mention that,” he exclaims in Spanish. “Robert, why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend could speak Spanish?”

“I didn’t know,” Robert defends. He pats Borgino’s arm. “I’m sure he’ll tell us all about why he learned Spanish while we enjoy the zoo. How does that sound, Papa?”

“Let’s go, then,” Luisa declares.

Borgino looks like he’s going to faint. Robert’s dad’s hugs will do that to a person. But he’s glad they hugged: handshakes were common with meeting parents, but for someone as warm and casual as his father, hugs were even better. Robert takes his hand and leads the way to the zoo.

Tonight, they have tickets to an evening event called “Brew at the Zoo”. In addition to the normal zoo activities that one could participate in, there were also about thirty stands offering tastings of various craft beer from local breweries. All of the tastings were included in the price of the tickets, so it was perfect for Robert’s parents to not feel stressed about money during the event.

At the gate, Borgino presents their tickets. There is a minor protest from Luisa as she wants to insist upon paying Borgino back for the tickets, but Borgino smoothly lies that he got a significant discount if he bought more and that he was also happy to treat them. Luisa, not wanting the situation to get awkward, drops the matter.

The zoo is lit up with gentle string lights and strip lighting on the paths. Zoo employees are on hand to give them maps and direct them on their way. They decide to go left towards several bird exhibits. On the way, they stop at a few stands to sample some brews.

Borgino is mostly quiet except for when Robert’s parents directly ask him something, but he will occasionally make a noise to indicate that he’s listening when they’re talking. He quietly and briefly explains that he learned Spanish about six years ago when he received a handful of Spanish-speaking clients, some of whom were rather high-profile. In an effort to make sure their important business went as smoothly as possible, Borgino learned Spanish so he could take them out to lunch.

“Most of the words I know are basic things for small talk or financial vocabulary,” he admits. “I’m pretty rusty.”

“Better than nothing,” Miguel comments. “It is always nice when people try. Even if you think you are rusty or not good, it is appreciated.”

Robert squeezes Borgino’s hand. “It is,” he agrees.

There is a break in the conversation while they visit a few bird houses. Borgino has had a fascination with birds lately, and he’s not much for conversation while they’re in there. Robert’s parents pick up on his single-minded enthusiasm and leave him to do his own thing while they fawn over some adorable penguins.

“Are you doing okay?” Robert quietly asks while they admire some flamingos across the pavilion.

Some of the tension has left Borgino’s shoulders. “I think so,” he responds just as quietly. “I haven’t fucked up too badly yet, I hope.”

“You’ve been wonderful so far.” Robert squeezes his hand again.

They rejoin Robert’s parents and move on from the bird pavilion. After a few more stops, they take a break on the edge of a fountain so that Robert’s mother can take a break from all the walking. While they sit, Robert prompts Borgino to talk about his birdwatching classes and nature photography, opening up a conversation that he knows will help his boyfriend show his personality.

Borgino eagerly takes the lead and fumbles to pull out his phone, dropping it in his nervous haste. Thankfully, Robert quickly catches it and hands it back.

“Gamer instincts,” he comments before immediately losing his balance and nearly falling backwards if not for his mother catching him.

Borgino throws back his head and laughs. There is a similar chuckle from Miguel.

After Robert gets over his embarrassment, the conversation turns back to bird pictures. Borgino, with his phone safely in his hand, leans over Robert to show his parents some good pictures he took. He puts an arm around Robert’s waist. The faux-fur of his coat collar tickles Robert’s neck and cheek.

When they move on, Robert misses the feeling of Borgino pressed against his side. They continue to hold hands but Robert shifts so that he’s holding Borgino’s arm instead so they can be closer. He’s stupidly clingy today. Robert blames it on Felicity and then resolves to not think of her again tonight.

They tour more animal exhibits and more beer tastings, ending up at another huge bird building. While Borgino goes forward, Robert’s father follows. Robert hangs back with his mom. They sit together watching toucans eat.

“Robert,” his mom begins, looking away from the pretty birds to face Robert. She takes his hands. “It’s so good to see you. And it’s so nice to be out going to something like this.”

“I’m glad to be able to hang out with you too.” Robert feels like a serious conversation is coming.

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to do these things when you were a kid.” His mother smiles, her eyes creased in a way that belies her inner disappointment. “We should have been there to take you. We had a zoo only a few Express stops away. I could have gone with you one of the weekends that I was here.”

Robert pulls her into a hug. “Don’t be like that, _mamo,”_ he whispers. “I grew up just fine without going to the zoo. You did the best you could with what you could do. Whenever you came home, you were so exhausted that _papa_ had to bring you your food in bed. It was just nice to see you.” He gives her a quick squeeze before letting go. “And it’s nice to see you now.”

She won’t let him go that easy, though, pulling him back in. “Let’s do this again next time.”

“It was Bryant’s idea, really. He’s the one who found the event and thought it was a good idea.”

His mother’s face creases into a pleased smile. “He did? Well, I suppose he has good taste.” She looks over to where Borgino and Robert’s father have become engaged in a hearty conversation about Mexico City, apparently. It’s hard to tell from her face, but Robert thinks that, at the very least, she doesn’t _disapprove_ of Borgino.

They move on from the birds to the large animal exhibits: bears, baboons, reptiles. They even pop inside the zoo’s Mouse House to coo over the adorable little animals. Robert’s father is chatting a million miles a minute, having sampled more of the brews than the others. Borgino looks pleased that he doesn’t have to do much to keep up the conversation besides smile and nod.

He does, however, make the bold move of asking Robert’s mother about her recent drive. Where she went, what did she see, did anything interesting happen, etc. Luisa happily answers, rewarding Borgino for his outgoingness with many smiles and even a few pats on the shoulder.

As it’s growing late, Robert spots an ice cream stand that is still open. He squeals in delight and purchases some for himself and for the others. He gets a chocolate fudge sundae with caramel sauce and many toppings. Miguel and Luisa split a sundae with bananas and other fruit. Borgino orders a small vanilla cone with a dusting of sprinkles.

Now that they’re more comfortable, his parents become bolder with the questions to Borgino. Does he have any pets, why doesn’t he have any, how does he feel about Robert’s cat, and so on.

“What about Robert’s games?” His father asks. “He is gaming all of the time and is always sharing it on the internet. Does that get in the way of having dates and such?”

“Not at all, Mr. Bakowski,” Borgino answers. “It’s his passion and everyone online loves him a lot.” He puts an arm around Robert’s shoulder. “He works hard for it. Even though he did play the _silliest_ little game last night. Somehow people still love him.”

“Hey, Pet Neighbor Dating Simulator is the _best_ game!” Robert jokingly protests even as his face burns with a blush. Borgino has never been quite so sappy before.

His parents laugh. They seem pleased with the answer: previous boyfriends of Robert’s have tried to interfere with his gaming or have otherwise complained in a not-joking way about it.

The conversation turns to topics lighter than interrogation of Borgino. It is growing near to the zoo closing time when Robert pulls his father aside and gives him his new shoes that Robert had bought a few days ago.

His father tries to protest but Robert insists that he got them on sale for an insane price that he couldn’t pass up. It’s a lie and Robert is not fond of lying, but it makes his father feel better about the gift. His father puts on the new comfortable shoes immediately but insists upon holding onto his old pair “just in case”. It’s a habit that Robert knows he can’t break, so he doesn’t argue.

“Mrs. Bakowski,” Borgino awkwardly starts.

“Luisa,” she reminds him.

“L-Luisa,” he begins again. He’s fiddling with something in his jacket pocket. “I – I do have a gift for you, I guess.”

Her eyebrows raise to the moon. She says nothing. Robert gives Borgino a _look._ He should have run all gifts by him first. His stomach is starting to do funny things, not sure if Borgino is about to do something very good or very bad.

“I have a few delivery drivers that work for me. As the – as the weather changes and gets cold, they’re always complaining about shit being cold.” Borgino takes a pair of gloves out of his pocket. “One of them got another a pair of these for his birthday. He swears by them and now my whole damn team has a pair. I thought – I thought, well, since you’re going to be driving up to Canada this month, maybe…” He trails off and awkwardly hands the gloves to her.

She takes them but still says nothing. She turns them over and inspects them. They’re very nice gloves: thin but made of some insulating material with grips and touch-compatible pads on the fingers and palms.

Hesitantly, as if she’s afraid to break them, Robert’s mother silently tries a glove on. She smiles. Something in her face is changing. If Robert had a guess, he’d think that despite Robert’s warning about Borgino’s shyness, his boyfriend’s behavior had come off as cold and standoffish, at least in his mother’s eyes. But Robert thinks that she’s beginning to realize that Borgino really is just quiet and that he cares a lot about people.

“I – I was going to bring flowers or a bottle of wine or something if I came over your house for dinner,” Borgino starts to ramble in the terribly awkward silence. “But I thought that would be really stupid since we would be walking around the zoo. I hope I didn’t overstep.” He desperately looks to Robert for guidance.

Robert shrugs. Either his mother will appreciate the gift, or she won’t.

“You didn’t overstep,” Luisa responds after a few seconds of silence. “I – I’m just surprised, I guess.” She takes the glove off and puts both gloves into her purse. She steps forward and gives Borgino a big hug.

Poor Borgino again looks like he’s going to pass out. He gently pats Robert’s mother’s shoulders, unsure of how to hug her back. The hug is brief: Robert’s mother is not such an avid hugger as his father is.

“We’d better head home,” Robert suggests after that awkward but nice embrace. “It’s getting late.” He’s getting tired and his bite wound from Felicity is starting to ache again.

“We’ll see you later, then,” Miguel says. He gives Robert and Borgino a big hug each. Robert gets another hug from his mother before they part at the zoo Express station.

The ride back to Robert’s apartment is quiet. They sit hip-to-hip on the Express car. Robert gets chilly and steals Borgino’s big jacket halfway through. There is no speaking, only holding each other’s hand.

Borgino insists upon seeing Robert safely inside his apartment. There is an odd tension between them when Robert unlocks the door and declares that Borgino might as well stay the night. Or maybe that’s just Robert’s imagination.

He ducks into the bathroom and takes more painkillers. He’s starting to worry that he should have gone to the doctor for his bite wound: vampire bites shouldn’t be continuing to hurt like this. He changes into his pajamas while he’s in there, making sure his sleep t-shirt covers his bandage.

When he comes out, Borgino is right there to sweep him into a passionate embrace. Robert gasps but kisses his boyfriend back. Borgino’s arms go under Robert’s thighs as he walks to dump them both on the bed, straddling Robert.

Robert sighs and sinks into the bedspread, inwardly relaxing at the unexpected romance of it all. He closes his eyes and bares his neck for Borgino to kiss. But the feeling of someone’s mouth on his throat makes him shudder, and not from passion.

“Okay?” Borgino grumbles, pulling back at Robert’s odd reaction.

“Yeah, of course!” Robert runs his hands down Borgino’s hips, trying to conceal his emotions. “Just cold.”

Borgino eats up the lie. Things get a little heavy between them: Borgino’s hands are in Robert’s pants and Robert’s fingers are nowhere more appropriate. It’s wonderful and distracting.

Until Borgino grabs the bottom hem of Robert’s shirt to remove it.

Robert breaks out of his good mood and pushes Borgino’s hands away.

“Sorry!” Borgino, to his credit, immediately backs off. “I should have asked.” He squints. Frowns. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Robert snaps. But he can’t meet Borgino’s eyes and his face feels hot and strange.

Borgino’s frown has deepened. He touches Robert’s knee. “No, seriously. Are you fucking okay? You’ve been acting weird all weekend.” He pauses. “Oh, Robert…”

When he touches Robert’s cheek, Robert realizes that it’s wet. Oh no, now he’s _crying…_

“S-Something happened,” he starts, knowing that he can’t deflect anymore. “It happened on Friday after I came home from work but – but I didn’t want to tell you because it would _ruin_ this weekend and I wanted things to go well.” He takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

“What happened?” Borgino’s voice is quiet and dark. “Robert, what the _fuck_ happened?”

Robert closes his eyes and tugs the collar of his shirt down.

There is a sharp intake of breath from Borgino. “Who did that to you?” He slowly asks, each word dripping with fury.

“Felicity.” Robert keeps his eyes closed. “She bit me.”

Borgino’s breathing turns heavy and strained. When Robert cracks an eye open, he sees Borgino with his fists clenched in the fabric of the bedspread, eyes hard and fangs bared.

“She. Will. _Pay._ For. That.” Borgino grits out each word.

“Bryant, don’t-” Robert doesn’t want trouble. He doesn’t want to give Felicity the satisfaction of knowing that her actions upset Borgino. Most importantly, Robert doesn’t want to be the cause of any terrible Shark war.

“Don’t _what,_ Robert?” Borgino snarls. “She bit you and she is not allowed to even fucking _touch_ you. It’s the _rules.”_

Sharks have many rules. If they didn’t stick to them, then chaos and unrestrained violence would ensue. Who can be attacked, what can be stolen or broken, how is territory controlled: rules for everything.

Borgino grabs Robert around the waist and pulls him into Borgino’s lap. He keeps arm around him while he pulls out his phone and makes calls. Robert stays quiet. He doesn’t know Shark rules and he feels too tired to argue with Borgino tonight.

His boyfriend’s first call is to Sharon. Robert, cradled against Borgino’s chest, is close enough to hear both sides of the conversation.

“What’s wrong?” Sharon says as a greeting. “I though you and Robert were out tonight.”

“We were,” Borgino quietly and flatly replies. “That went fine. But something happened yesterday. I need to you to organize retaliation against Felicity. Legal action, too.”

There is a long silence. Robert vaguely knows that Sharon and Felicity have a history.

“You’re sure?” Sharon asks. “Not that I’m not ecstatic at the idea, but rules-”

“She bit Robert.”

Sharon gasps. “Oh – oh my goodness. Oh no. Is he okay?”

“I’m fine,” Robert yells. “Bryant’s being overprotective.”

Borgino sighs. “Maybe Sharon can explain exactly why that is such an egregious breaking of our rules.” He hands the phone down to Robert.

“You’re really okay?” Sharon, despite the late hour, sounds wide awake and terribly worried.

“I am,” Robert confirms. “Now what’s all this about rules?”

Sharon exhales loudly through her nose. “Among more voluntary rules regarding injuring or threatening close members of a Shark’s inner circle, there are strict rules that involve how one can interact with another’s Supplier.”

Oh. Now things make more sense. Robert was thinking of this in a more personal sense, forgetting that his role as Borgino’s primary blood supplier was of significant consequence in the Shark world. While many Sharks hired external Suppliers, some such as Borgino preferred to have them be in-house employees like Robert.

“You’re not allowed to feed from someone else’s source,” Robert slowly says, figuring it out.

“Exactly. Technically, she’s not even supposed to approach or speak to you if you’re not under Borgino’s supervision, though that rule is slightly outdated. So for her to bite you is…fucking _bad,_ Robert. You should have said something earlier.”

Now Sharon’s on his case. Robert sighs. “I had my reasons.”

Borgino takes the phone back. “Just let me know how things go.”

“Will do. I’ll keep you updated.” Sharon hangs up.

The next person Borgino contacts is his personal doctor, letting him know that Robert will need to be seen first thing tomorrow for his bite wound.

“You need to get some sleep,” Borgino says after he’s done with that brief conversation. He lowers his head, averting his still-angry eyes from Robert. “I feel like this whole thing is my fault, somehow, even though I know it isn’t. I just can’t believe that she did that and – and that you didn’t want to tell me right away. But I understand.”

Robert nods. “I’m sorry. And you know that it isn’t your fault. Felicity’s just an asshole.”

Borgino weaves his fingers through Robert’s hair. “Did she talk to you?”

“Y-Yeah. A little.” Robert sniffs because he feels like crying again. “I told her to fuck off. I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“You shouldn’t have, but she needs to be told.” Borgino moves them so that Robert’s laying down under his blankets. “Do you want to talk to me about it? About what she said to you?”

Robert buries his face in his pillow and shakes his head. It would be an extra layer of humiliation.

“Then you don’t have to. I know someone you can talk to instead. I’ll call him tomorrow to set up a meeting.” Borgino reaches over to turn off the light. “Go to sleep, Robert. I’ll be right here.”

Despite his turbulent aching heart and racing mind, Robert falls asleep easily with Borgino right next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This zoo event was inspired by an annual event called "Zoo Brew" at the Detroit Zoo (my local zoo).


End file.
